


The State of Being Human

by Melodious329



Category: Kane (Band), Leverage RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 22,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: This is where I will collect all of my very small comment-sized fics that I wrote years ago.
Relationships: Christian Kane/Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Jensen Ackles/Christian Kane, Steve Carlson/Christian Kane, Timothy Hutton/Christian Kane





	1. Chapter 1

**Steve Carlson/Christian Kane**

_Williams James said that bodily changes follow directly the perception of the exciting fact and that our feeling of the same changes as they occur is the emotion._

Christian thinks that the man may have been onto something. Christian loves Steve. That's why he stays, that's why he can't hit back. He can't hurt Steve.  
  
Christian loves Steve until the front door slams. The sound makes Christian flinch and just like that, with that tiny, involuntary bodily response, Christian is afraid of Steve. Love is suffocated by fear, just like Christian feels suffocated by the hot, sickly sweet fumes of alcohol on Steve's breath. And with every careless blow, Christian feels his despair breaking loose like the blood from his capillaries, misery pushing to the surface just as the bruise blooms under his skin.  
  
He wouldn't feel like this if his body didn't feel it. He tries to convince himself that it's just his body that's hurt. Christian Kane can take a little pain, right? But it's not the bruises that hurt. They are just the catalyst for the pain that he feels because Steve doesn't love him enough not to hurt him.  
  
But afterward, after the yelling and the name-calling and the belittling, after the blows of Steve's fist and the last cruel twist of Steve's cock deep inside, after all that Steve will run a hand down Christian's flank, the gentleness ever more enticing because of the earlier violence. And Christian will shiver involuntarily and feel love again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Fed!Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Fed! Jensen, Kidnapped! Christian Kane, Rescue Mission_  
  
It was supposed to be a rescue mission. The FBI had been called in to investigate a serial killer, a sick bastard who had already tortured and killed 13 other young men in Oklahoma.  
  
Christian Kane was supposed to just be a country singer. Jeff and his new, younger partner Jensen began to investigate the man’s life as soon as their plane landed. Talking to his friends and family, exploring his home, they found that Christian Kane was a good guy and a good musician, that he was loyal to his friends, dedicated to his family, that he was fun guy with a sharp, cutting wit, a country boy who loved a good bar brawl.  
  
For Jeff it was the pictures. Pictures given to the Feds by Christian’s mom and his friends, pictures posted by Christian’s fans on lampposts in which Christian was muscular with long hair wearing jewelry and sometimes braids in his hair. Pictures in which Christian seemed both bigger and smaller than the measurements they were given, strong and alive but with an underlying vulnerability that drew Jeff in. The man kinda reminded Jeff of Jensen.  
  
For Jensen it was the music. It was the emotions that Christian portrayed so clearly that he didn’t have to listen to the words to hear the meaning. It was the sound of growing up in Texas, of being wild and free, of the desperate longing for love, of the intimacy of laughing with friends.  
  
By the time they had a lead on where Christian might be being held, it was more than just a rescue mission for them both. And when they got to the house where they believed Christian was being held, it turned out not to be a rescue mission at all.  
  
They pulled up in time to see the man they had come to rescue stumbling out the front door, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, his exposed skin covered in blood and dirt so that they couldn’t see the damage, his long hair limp and matted as it hung around his face. They raced forward in time to both be mesmerized by a pair of baby blue eyes so bright they seemed as stained glass windows, lit from within.  
  
And then Christian, the man that they had come to feel for as more than just a victim, collapsed down into the grass in front of them, four hands reaching out for him.

*******************************************

_RPS, Jeff/Jensen/Chris, tough love_   
  


Tough love, Jeff thought as he watched Christian moving nervously through his home. It was the day after the musician had been released from the hospital and he and Jensen had stopped by ostensibly to talk about the case. 

Christian straightened his dirty dishes in the sink, looking up into Jeff’s eyes only momentarily before looking away again as he spoke, “I’m fine, guys. In fact, I need to go to the store since I have nothing in this house to eat…”

The boy laughed, thin and fake to Jeff’s ears even as he was moving towards the door and his keys. Jeff could see as well as Jensen that Chris was not fine, he was pale and bruised, stiff still with pain and bandages and buried emotions. 

Jensen stepped in front of Christian at the door, blocking the smaller man’s path. “You just got out of the hospital, man. Take a moment to breathe,” Jensen coaxed. 

Jeff could tell by Christian’s shifting stance that he was trying not to be seduced by the understanding in Jensen’s voice and demeanor. And Jeff couldn’t help thinking that they were two of a kind those two, same upbringing, same wit and sharp humor, same hard coating protecting them from the world. Jensen would be good for Christian right now…

Christian turned his head to the side as Jeff took a step forward, always aware, always on guard. “Look,” Christian said, a harder edge to his voice now, anger his first defense against all the emotions he didn’t know how to handle after what had happened. “There’s nothing to talk about. That bastard won’t be hurting anyone else…”

And Jeff knew that that hurt Christian too. Taking another step closer, Jeff wrapped his arms around the young man, pulling the stiff, skittish body back against his own chest. “What’re you…?”

The question didn’t get completed as Jensen stepped forward to place his own hands on Christian’s waist. Jeff had no idea what he was doing, what they were doing. He had been attracted to Jensen from the first moment, but hadn’t really considered making a move on his younger partner until he saw the way Jensen looked at Christian. 

It wasn’t a good idea. They were partners, Christian was a victim. Hell, neither he nor Jensen had ever stuck around to see the aftermath once the bad guy had been caught. They had no idea what they were in for. But as Jensen moved even closer, close enough for Christian to bury a harsh, defiant sob in his chest, Jeff thought that Jensen needed Christian and Christian needed Jensen. And maybe they both needed an old man to look out for them. 


	3. Chapter 3

_RPS, Coach!Jeff/Jock!Christian/Jock!Steve, The Coach Lesson_   
  


Jeff wasn’t surprised to see two of his star football players at the dive bar. Well, he wasn’t surprised to see these particular two star football players, not after hearing the band that had just finished. And as he followed them out a side door, he wasn’t surprised to see them passing a blunt and a flask back and forth. 

It was the engraved invitation Jeff had been waiting for since Chris and Steve had first tried out in their freshman year. He almost laughed at their shocked and dismayed expressions as he shuttled them into his car, and he did smirk as they bickered over whose fault their current predicament was in too-loud whispers that told Jeff exactly how drunk and high they were. 

“Tool, as if the side door isn’t the most obvious…”

“Fuck you, man. You were the one who couldn’t wait til we had gotten back…”

Jeff’s smile was wide with secret knowledge like the Cheshire cat when he pulled his car into his own driveway to the boys’ befuddlement. “I’m not sending you boys back to your mommas like this, so you’d better come on in.”

Chris actually looked ashamed at the mention of his mother so Jeff played on that as he ushered them inside his living room. “Just think how disappointed she would be if I had to bench her son…”

“No,” Chris begged in that silky, smoky voice before he tripped, falling into Steve’s helpful arms. They ended up clutching each other in an attempt to stay upright, and still, Chris turned his head toward Jeff to try and plead his case. 

But Jeff stopped the words as he entwined his hand in Chris’s long hair, pulling the boy’s head back a little. “No, I won’t bench you two. But I think you need a special coach’s lesson.”

Both boys looked at him in relief, unable to imagine a fate worse than being benched. “Steve,” Jeff said, causing the blonde to look up in surprise at actually being addressed. “Steve, kiss Chris.”

Steve began leaning into the other boy without protest, but Chris, unsurprisingly, spoke up. “Wha…?”

Jeff tightened his grip on the boy’s hair, cutting off the sound and causing Chris’s lips to part further on a soft sound of pain. Jeff liked the look. 

“You need a lesson in doing what you’re told, boy.” Chris made an aborted attempt to nod and then simply licked full lips. Jeff guided Steve with a gentler hand then. 

Steve first kissed the corner of Chris’s lips, a comforting gesture that had Chris closing crystal blue eyes. Steve always had been the only one who knew how to handle Chris. Then Steve was biting Chris’s plush lower lip, a move that had Chris pressing up to get more of Steve’s lips and had Jeff wondering if they hadn’t done this before. 

Jeff almost hated to break them apart but he couldn’t let them forget who was calling the plays. Naturally he yanked back on Chris’s hair again. The brunette’s eyes flashed in anger, that challenge that had initially caught Jeff’s eye. 

But Steve’s hands were still on Chris’s t-shirt clad chest. The blonde didn’t even seem to notice the specifics of the situation, only the intent that he would be getting laid tonight. And Steve seemed very intent on that outcome. 

Jeff had just separated them and Steve had simply moved his attentions to Chris’s bared throat, practically humping the brunette’s muscular thigh and his hands groping Chris’s jean-clad ass. Jeff’s gentle hand became firm in blonde waves too, and he yanked Steve back saying, “Let’s move this to the bedroom, boys.” 


	4. Chapter 4

_RPS, Chris/Steve, Couldn't we just make love instead?_   
  


So maybe Steve had overdone it, just a little. It was just…they had been together _ten years_. And it was more difficult now to make time for one another than ever, and there were more fans than ever trying to get into Christian’s pants. 

But Steve knew what Christian liked. He knew how Christian liked to be tied up or tied down. He started stockpiling watermelon flavored lube because he knew how to use teeth and tongue and fingers and toys to make Christian a writhing, incoherent mess, knew how to make Christian beg, call out his name in that wrecked, whiskey voice, _Steve_. He was determined to be the only one to know what it was like to shove his cock deep into Christian’s pliant, exhausted body, when Christian was past the point of being able to meet his thrusts and simply let out long, keening moans in response to finally getting what he had begged for. 

So when Christian showed up at his LA home late one night, exhausted and carrying a single duffel bag on his shoulder for his short visit, Steve already had the silk ties waiting on the bed. Steve didn’t understand when Christian dropped his duffel and looked at him with big distraught blue eyes. “Steve, can we…couldn’t we just make love instead?”

Steve’s breath seemed to lodge like a spike in his ribcage, _oh god_ , and _all this time_ and _all wrong_ , but Christian was there grabbing his hands to soothe him. “Just stop whatever you’re thinking, I just…” Christian look down, huffed in that embarrassed way that he always did right before he actually attempted to say something meaningful, something about _feelings_. 

But Christian had never been good with words, so Steve wasn’t surprised when Christian dropped his hands but stepped closer, began unbuttoning Steve’s shirt. Steve simply held still as Christian pushed the material off of his shoulders and then pulled off the three shirts that Christian was wearing. He held still as Christian slid his hands around Steve’s waist a little awkwardly and then took another step, pressing their bare chests together. 

But Steve understood when Christian buried his face in Steve’s throat and just _relaxed_. Then Steve moved, one arm winding around Christian’s tapered waist and the other hand cupped the back of Christian’s head. They stood there a moment before Christian was undoing both of their pants and then Steve was laying the other man gently on the bed, covering Christian’s nakedness with his own. And Christian let out that low, satisfied, near-purring sound that Steven loved so much. 

Christian could get anyone to tie him up or tie him down, could get anyone to worship his beautiful body. But Steve _loved_ Christian and Christian loved Steve and so, they made love. And that Christian couldn’t get anywhere else. 

But Steve was far from throwing away those silk ties. 


	5. Chapter 5

_RPS, JDM/Chris, "not tonight, I'm too tired"_   
  


Jeff was dead tired, and that was the whole reason for the mess that followed. 

Jeff entered his house well into the wee hours of the morning after a shoot had run long. He was disappointed because Christian had come to visit him this weekend. Their relationship was still new, but, at this point in his life, Jeff had to like someone an awful lot to even begin a relationship. 

He could see traces of Christian’s presence as soon as he entered the door, the smell of a home-cooked meal that Christian had, no doubt, wrapped up and put in the fridge for him. Climbing the stairs to his bedroom, he tried to creep quietly into his bedroom where Christian and Bisou were asleep in his bed. 

Unfortunately Christian, unlike Bisou, was a light sleeper, and he wasn’t surprised to see Christian stirring in the half-light from the bathroom. Christian sat up, the sheet running down his muscled chest like a waterfall to pool at his waist, though it didn’t cover the fact that the other man wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Blinking heavy-lidded, thick lashed eyes, Christian swiped a hand through adorably tousled long hair. 

Any other time and Jeff would have pounced on him, but, instead, Jeff simply left his clothes in a trail from the door and collapsed onto the bed. Christian didn’t exactly get the hint as he turned over to curl against Jeff’s side which in itself was fantastic, but then Christian’s mouth was on his chest, kittenish licks and nips and suckling. 

“Not tonight, I’m too tired,” Jeff grumbled. Even then Jeff had an inkling of the shitstorm to come, particularly when he felt Christian’s heat move away and then the bed shifting as Christian got out. But Jeff was asleep before he had really thought about it. 

When Jeff woke the next day, he was completely alone, even the dog had abandoned him. Groaning he rolled over to see the numbers on the clock. 11:54am. 

Grabbing a quick shower, Jeff pulled on only a pair of sweatpants and headed downstairs. After the night’s sleep, he was well aware of what would probably greet him. Christian had turned out to be distinctly different than what Jeff had been expecting, and that was both a great thing and explained why they were dating, but it also presented some obstacles. 

Anyone else would simply shrug off Jeff’s blow-off the night before, but Christian…Jeff still didn’t know what exactly had happened to Christian, but he was well-aware of Christian’s warped relationship with sex. Namely that sex was intertwined with Christian’s self-worth, particularly his worth in a relationship. In Christian’s mind, Jeff rejecting sex, for any reason, was Jeff rejecting Christian. 

Frankly, Jeff was just thankful that the man had not already taken a cab to the airport or gotten a hotel. Just because there were obstacles, didn’t mean that Jeff was ready to throw in the towel, not with Christian. And Jeff knew that Christian was still in his house because he could both hear and smell the man in the kitchen. 

Christian cooking again wasn’t a good sign either. It certainly meant that Christian was stressed, and it could be Christian trying to prove his worth in a way other than sex. And when Jeff actually entered the kitchen, his suspicions just got worse. 

Christian only looked up at his entrance and then went back to stirring something on the stove. Christian’s cool demeanor had Jeff’s hopes sinking a little lower, and he wished for a confrontation. But he could well imagine what was going through Christian’s mind, how Christian had probably spent the night coming to terms with the idea that Jeff didn’t want him and convincing himself that it didn’t matter, that they could still fuck because that was all that Christian should have been expecting anyway. 

“Christian…”

“Food’ll be ready in a minute, if you want to set the table,” the boy interrupted him. 

“No, Christian, come here for a second.”

Christian shrugged and then turned off the stove before walking over, that false seductive smile curving plump lips. But then those lips were on Jeff’s own and damn, if Jeff was having a hard time remembering why this was a bad idea. And then Christian reminded him by snaking his hand immediately down to cup Jeff’s cock through worn sweatpants. 

“No, look…”

“Fuck, Jeff!” Christian exploded, rocketing out of Jeff’s hold. The boy took a minute then to rein in his emotions, to breathe harshly through his flared nostrils before saying, “Fine. I get it. Let me just get my stuff.”

Jeff hadn’t noticed until that minute that Christian’s packed duffel was sitting beside the door as if Christian had been prepared from the beginning to beat a hasty retreat. 

“Chris, stop it!” Jeff couldn’t help yelling himself in reply, couldn’t prevent his hand from shooting out to grab Christian’s wrist. At the touch, Jeff could tell that Christian was ready to fight and his voice took on a pleading tone, “Christian, please. Just talk to me for a minute.”

Christian relaxed his stance a little and lowered his brows, and Jeff could hear the ‘so talk’ even though Christian didn’t speak. God, this was awkward. “I was too tired last night…”

At those first words, Christian rolled his eyes and tried to turn away but Jeff was still gripping his wrist. Jeff used the momentum then to pull the younger man into his arms, holding him tightly though not as tightly as Christian was holding himself. “Even if we didn’t have sex, I just wanted to sleep with you, to hold you.”

Jeff couldn’t see Christian’s face because of the tight hold but he distinctly heard the disdain in Christian’s voice when he said, “Don’t treat me like some girl, we both know that’s not what this is about.”

“I’m not treating you like a girl, I just…Jesus, just come with me. Put your bag down and stay awhile.”

Jeff began pulling Christian after him, up the stairs and back into the bedroom. He knew that Christian would immediately think sex just by being in the room, and so he cut off anything that Christian might have said. “Just don’t say anything. And don’t do anything.”

Jeff stripped Christian silently, quickly, though it didn’t stop the smirk of cynical triumph on Christian’s lips. He left Christian in his boxer briefs and then pulled the man into the bed again. It wasn’t as if Jeff had never held Christian as they slept, but it had always been after sex. 

Lying down on his back, Jeff pulled Christian to lie on top of him, pressing Christian’s head down onto his shoulder with a hand. He kept the hand there just to make sure the boy stayed. 

Christian squirmed and huffed for a moment before giving up. “So what? I’m just supposed to lie here mostly naked and not do anything?” 

Jeff couldn’t help the smile that stretched his own lips. “Yep.” His hand began to gently stroke through long silky strands, massaging Christian’s scalp. He had gotten a ton of sleep, but he would have bet that Christian hadn’t gotten any after he returned home. His other arm he draped over Christian’s tapered waist.

Sure enough, Christian shortly fell asleep probably despite his best efforts not to. Jeff kept up his stroking. He didn’t know exactly how he was going to convince Christian of his intentions, convince Christian to let him in and stop sabotaging them. He just knew that he would keep trying because this, this felt damn good. 


	6. Chapter 6

_Leverage RPS, Tim/Chris, Hair Pulling_   
  


It was juvenile, Tim could admit that. He didn’t even know how it started…except he did. It had just seemed like a good idea at the time. 

At first it was just to get Christian’s attention. Christian had beautiful hair and he was proud of it, and everyone was always either complimenting it or teasing Christian about the length. So when he and Christian were supposed to be working on a scene, but the other man was being constantly distracted by Aldis practicing his short fight scene, Tim pulled Christian’s hair. 

He didn’t think about it, just did it. And Christian wasn’t offended, just turned around with a surprised expression that quickly slid into a sheepish one. Christian smiled that small, lopsided smile that had an uncomfortable warmth spreading in Tim’s belly and then they finished working on the scene. No big deal. 

Except Tim kept doing it. Soon he was doing it when Christian was talking to other people. Like when Christian was talking to one of the stunt coordinators when Tim was ready to leave for the day. Tim should have just let the two be, but he and Christian always left together, always had dinner and wine in an attempt to unwind from the chaos that was working on this show with these people. Besides Christian was always talking to the stunt coordinator, surely they could finish tomorrow. So Tim pulled a lightly curling, silky strand. 

And Christian just looked up and smiled at him, that wide, welcoming smile that made Tim feel like he had won something, like the lottery or an Emmy. “You’re ready?” Christian asked, even though he was already bending to grab his previously packed duffel. Christian clapped the other man on the back and then walked off with Tim. “Same place?” Tim asked pointlessly. 

But then Tim does it to take Christian’s attention away from certain people. Today, Christian is talking to the new wardrobe stylist, a beautiful blonde with long legs and a big rack and a wide smile. Tim doesn’t understand why his chest seems to constrict as he watches Christian talking with her, laughing with her, smiling at her. His feet carry him over to pull the brunette’s hair again. 

This time _something_ flashes in Christian’s crystal eyes before he’s smiling as usual. Tim tries to smile back, “Hey, can I talk to you about something?” 

“Sure,” Christian replies easily. “Why don’t we go in my trailer?” Tim isn’t surprised when Christian opens the door for him, but when he turns around he is surprised to see Christian veritably stalking towards him. 

He tries to hold his ground, but, in the small space, he’s only one step from the wall. He finds himself backed into the wall with Christian’s smaller but more powerful body caging him in. Christian’s smile is different then, predatory and seductive as he raises his hands to the wall on either side of Tim’s body and leans in. His breath tickles Tim’s face when he speaks, “Playground tactics, Tim? Pulling my hair is a funny way to show interest.”

Tim opens his mouth to deny it, but then he takes a moment to admire the view in front of him. Christian’s crystal blue eyes framed by long lashes, strong jaw but lush mouth, the curve of a muscular chest visible through the tight t-shirt, the bunch of muscle in shoulders and biceps, much less the long curtain of hair…

That’s when he realizes maybe Christian has a point. Tim smiles then, his own wide Cheshire cat smile as he slides a hand around the back of Christian’s neck to entangle in that wild mane. He pulls Christian’s head back by that hair, baring Christian’s throat with tendons straining, and cool blue eyes flash hot. Tim uses that grip to angle Christian’s lips in the perfect position. Even as he’s leaning in, he’s imagining all the possible scenarios in which he can pull that hair. 


	7. Chapter 7

_RPS, Jeffery Dean Morgan/Christian Kane, spanking_   
  


Christian had been pissed at everyone and everything all day. He got like that sometimes, when he got run down from trying to be everything to everyone. He was the badass actor and the great guy to work with, the serious country musician and the hard-partying rocker, the friend that could always be counted on and his momma’s baby boy. 

Jeff was well aware that he made his own demands on the boy. Christian tried hard not to bring other stresses into their relationship, tried hard not to fall back on his good ol’ boy, shit-kicker persona whenever he got scared. And Jeff was grateful, grateful that the boy tried so hard to just be happy, to be them when they finally managed to get together. Christian did a better job of it than Jeff did who often whined to the boy about filming. 

So even though Christian tried to leave his stress about the show and the CD and his persona and his fans and his family at the door, it wasn’t always possible. And when it happened, Jeff tried to stow his own aggravation and give Christian a little space. That just wasn’t always possible either. 

Jeff watches from his perch on the kitchen table as Christian ostensibly makes them dinner, but the boy is mostly taking out his frustrations on the kitchen appliances. He mixes some ingredients in a bowl on the table rather viciously, adds salt, picks up the pepper and then puts it down and turns to the pot on the stove as if suddenly remembering it. 

In an attempt to be helpful, Jeff picks up the pepper and adds a little to the bowl. Which is a mistake apparently, since Christian turns back and sees him and immediately snaps, “Dammit, Jeff, don’t touch anything.” Christian turns back to something on the counter, but Jeff has had about enough of the attitude. He lands a hard swat on the boy’s muscular ass. 

Christian chokes on a gasp, grasping the edge of the counter and going rigid. As Jeff watches, Christian flushes red though he keeps his eyes firmly downward.

Jeff smiles wide and replaces his hand on the ass that he just swatted, squeezing a round cheek. “Jeff…” Christian objects but Jeff doesn’t let him get out more than that word. 

“Like that? Is that what you need, Christian?”

“Don’t play. I have to finish dinner.” Christian’s voice is tight, thin with agitation. 

“I’m not playing.” Jeff moves then, spinning them by Christian’s arm to push the boy face-down onto the table, leaning his weight on a forearm placed between Christian’s shoulder-blades. Christian had to have known Jeff’s intention, could have resisted, but he didn’t and that encourages Jeff even as the boy begins to struggle. 

“Jeff! What’re you…I’m not,” Christian stumbles over his protests, but he never says ‘stop’, even as he thrashes. Christian is strong, but he let Jeff get the upper hand and now there’s no leverage for Christian to get away. 

Jeff lets the boy fight for a while, get it out of his system, but as the struggles diminish, Jeff begins to reach under the boy to the button on his jeans. Just opening the button, Jeff can feel the hard outline of Christian’s cock belying his resistance. He wants this, perhaps he needs it. 

Christian’s panting breaths stutter as the loose jeans and then the boxers are eased over the jutting curve of his ass to land on the linoleum. 

Unable to resist, Jeff smoothes a hand over a downy cheek and says, “Is this what you need?” right before a hard swat lands on the boy’s bare ass. Christian only gasps and moves vaguely like he’s trying to get away again. “You need to just let it all go for a minute?” Jeff continues as his hand continues spanking round curves. 

For a few, Christian continues to move in a vague attempt to escape, but then he lays his head down on the table, cheek turned towards Jeff’s body. His muscles continue to clench and relax for a while, as if now the boy is fighting himself, before he goes boneless. 

Jeff continues to spank him, until tan skin turns as red as Christian’s earlier blush, until the boy is boneless on the table, rocking with the force of the blows and letting out little pained gasps. Then Jeff stops. His hand hurts but it seems irrelevant as he removes his restraining weight from the boy.

Christian moves then as if waking from a deep sleep. He struggles to push up on his own forearms, lifting a head of tousled hair and slowly blinking his eyes. “Jeff…”

The sound is agonizingly open and honestly needy with that tinge of fear that says Christian is worried that Jeff will abandon him now that he’s broken open. Jeff slides a hand up the back of Christian’s t-shirt eager to touch unblemished skin. Christian settles then, sliding back down onto the table. 

Jeff would figure the boy needed a nap if it weren’t for the hard, weeping cock under the table. As it is, Jeff slides the shirt up Christian’s muscled back, pulls it over his head but leaves it trapping muscular arms. Then he leans down, lifting one of Christian’s bare feet out of his pant leg. 

When he stands back up, Christian is trying to lift himself again with his entangled arms. The boy’s back arches and thighs spread in unmasked need. Jeff pulls the condom out of his wallet before shedding his own clothes. He wants to take his time, wants to shove his tongue in between heated cheeks and watch Christian squirm, but he knows that now is not the time. 

Grabbing the olive oil which has served him well in many a time past, Jeff instead slips a finger into Christian’s already relaxed body. But Christian reacts as if Jeff is teasing him mercilessly, letting out a mewling sound that Jeff has never heard before as his hips writhe in an attempt to take the finger deeper. 

It isn’t long before Jeff is pushing his latex-covered cock inside Christian’s sucking heat, his larger body completely covering the boy’s smaller one, Christian’s pained, “Unnhhh…” vibrating the air around them. Jeff pushes in deep, snapping his hips hard against Christian’s hot ass, his humid breath billowing out against a perfectly shaped ear. Sweat slicks the space between them, trails from one tan shoulder to land on another. They’re both making noise, loud, feral, unrestrained. 

Jeff is grinding his dick in deep when he cums, trying to fuse pubis to anus, only just remembering to jack Christian fast and insistent. The boy cums, jerking like he’s having a seizure, while Jeff is still buried inside. 

When it’s over, it’s only Jeff’s weight that keeps Christian from sliding off the table onto the floor. Jeff is grateful then that Christian is only renting a small place in Portland. He literally keeps a hand on the boy’s back as he leans to throw the condom in the trash, and then mostly carries Christian to the bed, the boy’s arms trying to keep their flimsy grasp on Jeff’s neck. 

They should have a shower but Christian isn’t up to it. And the boy’s reaching out to him, weak as a kitten and just as cuddly as Jeff slides under the covers. Besides, Jeff thinks as his hand slides down to unerringly land on a sore ass cheek, maybe in the shower later, he can further explore Christian’s kinks. 


	8. Chapter 8

_CW-RPS, Jensen Ackles/Christian Kane, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" by Big n' Rich (please don't add Steve Carlson to this one, thanks)_

Of the two of them, Christian is the cowboy, the one who wears his heritage visibly and proudly. Jensen is a gentleman, he says please and ma’am and thank you, opens doors and pulls out chairs. But he doesn’t see the need in playing to stereotypes he doesn’t fit just because of his home state. 

That doesn’t mean that Jensen is a pansy that doesn’t know how to handle himself, or that he doesn’t know how to ride a horse, or even that he doesn’t own a cowboy hat and boots. But Christian…Christian isn’t playing. When Jensen thinks of cowboys, he thinks of a close-mouthed smile, crystal piercing blue eyes underneath a tawny cowboy hat, long hair trailing out from underneath and half obscuring silver and turquoise jewelry. 

When Jensen shows up at Christian’s place wearing his own hat and boots and jeans and checkered button-down, the smaller man doesn’t say a word, just smiles with teeth and opens the door wider. They don’t do this often, hell, they don’t see each other as often as they would like. 

It seems only moments later that Christian is on his hands and knees on his bed, Jensen’s cock buried deep. With effort, Jensen loosens the death grip he has on narrow hips, trailing one hand underneath to pet Christian’s quivering abdominals. Slowly, he draws the hand up Christian’s back, muscles fluidly shifting underneath tan skin like a thoroughbred. Christian’s head hangs between muscular shoulders, but Jensen buries his hand in that chestnut hair and pulls, yanking Christian’s head back at a steep angle that significantly alters the sound of Christian’s panted breaths. 

Jensen watches Christian struggle to swallow, watches thick arms quivering with the strain. Jensen feels the strain in his own thighs, his ass, and abs as he snaps his hips again, pulling Christian back into him by the hair. Their flesh slapping together sounds obscenely loud, louder than their panting, steady and rhythmic like hoofbeats galloping toward the edge of oblivion. 

Looking down, Jensen sees the damp tendrils of his own treasure trail that lead down to where their bodies are joined. The hand that’s not gripping Christian’s hair slides down sweat-slick skin to caress the edge of the stretched hole that holds him, sucks him in. Christian huffs and shivers, but it doesn’t throw off Jensen’s fingers that stroke, glistening with lube like Jensen’s latex-covered cock that green eyes watch sliding in and out. 

Christian rebalances himself, manages to lift his right arm to jack his cock to Jensen’s rhythm. Jensen doesn’t falter as Christian tightens around him, stiffens and jerks. He doesn’t loosen his grip even as he hears Christian struggling for breath in the midst of his orgasm, even as Jensen’s orgasm stampedes over him. 

They collapse downward in a pile, folding like a house of cards. 


	9. Chapter 9

_Kane RPS, Apollo!Steve/Hyacinthus!Christian, "I don't know if I can lose you...again"_  
  


Steve would always remember that day, no matter how long he lived or how long he and Christian spent together. He could still see it now in his mind’s eye, the flight of the discus, long and far, and then the certain knowledge that it would hit Christian. He felt again the weight of Christian’s limp form in his arms, saw the way that the youth’s head hung from his neck like a wilted flower too heavy for its stem. He remembered the blood that freely ran thick and red from the cut on Christian’s forehead heedless of his desperate attempts to staunch the flow. He remembered the way that the blood stained the plants. Every time Steve saw a hyacinth his heart clenched. 

He couldn’t forget that day because he loved Christian, more than his music and his hunting and sports, more than the sun, the crow, or the dolphin. But because he loved Christian, Steve also could not deny his lover anything. Christian loved sports and hunting and fighting. Christian loved acting and loved to perform his own stunts. 

All Steve could do was hold Christian tight in his arms and whisper against that much-loved ear, “I don’t know if I can lose you…again.”


	10. Chapter 10

_RPS, JDM/Christian Kane, You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This -- Toby Keith_

Christian knew that he should have stopped it right at the beginning, at the moment that Jeff’s lips touched his. Fuck it, he should have walked out the door the second that Jeff showed up at Jensen and Jared’s barbecue in Vancouver this time. 

Jeff didn’t show up that often, but whenever he did, it always ended like this, with Christian shoved against the hastily closed door of his hotel room, held in place by Jeff’s larger frame, caged. Jeff always kissed Christian then like he needed it, like he needed Christian. It was possessive, demanding, and desperate with Jeff shoved up so hard against him, Christian felt like Jeff wanted to crawl inside. 

And Christian gave as good as he got, until…until he didn’t. Then and only then, Jeff would fist a hand in long hair and practically drag Christian to Christian’s own hotel bed. Jeff stripped him like a man on a mission, as if clothes were only an impediment to his goal which was apparently to shove Christian naked back onto the ugly hotel comforter. 

Never in his life had Christian ever felt as vulnerable as when he was sprawled on a bed with Jeff standing over him as the man deliberately removed his clothes. Only Jeff had ever made him feel exposed, like Jeff could see everything that Christian tried to hide, every doubt, every fear, every bit of insecurity was known by that predatory gaze as Jeff drew the moment out. Normally Christian would cover with bravado, with false confidence, would say something, do something to gain the upper hand again, but with Jeff…Christian just lays there, exposed and needing and waiting. 

The waiting was always worth it. Jeff would suck bruises into the skin just under Christian’s nipple and on his inner thigh like he wanted to brand his mark on the younger man, like he wanted to make sure that Christian remembered this. 

Not that Christian could forget the way that Jeff would spread him open, sometimes on his back with his legs in the air against Jeff’s chest, sometimes on his knees and elbows, feeling so damn pathetic when he couldn’t stop his hips from riding Jeff’s fingers like he was a goddamn slut for it. Christian couldn’t forget how hard Jeff fucked him, thrusting so deep like Jeff wanted to leave a piece of himself behind. Christian couldn’t forget how hard he came every time with Jeff’s lips on his back, on his neck, on his cheek. 

But Christian knew he should have stopped it this time as he watches Jeff get dressed in the dark. As soon as Jeff’s got his boots on, he’s leaning over the bed to kiss Christian again, like always. Jeff always leaves after kissing Christian slow and intense, like they’re got all the time in the world and Jeff is just going out for coffee instead of leaving not to be seen again for ten months. 

And this time, Christian just can’t take it. “Don’t kiss me like this,” he murmurs against determined lips. 

“Like what?” Jeff asks with amusement clear in his tone. 

“Like you mean it. Don’t kiss me like this is anything more than a fuck.”

Even in the semi-darkness that’s broken only by the hazy light from streetlamps coming through the window, Christian can see Jeff hanging his head to avoid looking at Christian, looking at the younger man who lies still naked and debauched now under the sheets. 

But when Jeff nods and walks away, Christian kinda wishes he’d kept his mouth shut.   
__________________________

  
  
Prompt: _RPS, JDM/Christian Kane, Let Me Go -- Kane  
_ AN: This directly follows the fic above.   
  


Jeff’s not prepared to see Christian again, not so soon, certainly not in some random dingy LA bar. Normally he spends at least half an hour telling himself how he’s not going to kiss/touch/fuck Christian before he shows up at one of Jensen’s get-togethers. 

Not that that ever works anyhow. See because Jeff knew how Christian felt, knew it long before Christian said, “Don’t kiss me like this.” Jeff knew that Christian wanted more every time those beautiful, baby blue eyes spied Jeff across a crowded room and everything became just a dance after that. Jeff knew it every time Christian finally submitted, relaxed in his arms, waited for him lying on the bed with that perfect body exposed and those blue eyes gone wide-eyed in vulnerability that Christian wasn’t used to but willingly gave up to Jeff. And it wasn’t like Jeff couldn’t see how those eyes would go dark with pain afterward, how Christian would curl on his side, looking so small. 

Yeah Jeff knew, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Even though Jeff knows that he’s not what Christian needs. Christian doesn’t need an old man who’s barely home enough for his dog to remember him. Christian needs a woman, and six kids and a couple acres of land and two point five dogs. He needs someone to dote on and someone who’ll take care of him. What he doesn’t need is some gay scandal right before his country album is finally released. 

Jeff knows the instant that Christian sees him stand still in the doorway, because he can see Christian’s eyes go dark with that same pain except ten times worse now. Now Christians looks heartbroken. 

But Jeff is surprised when Christian gets off his stool and walks casually over. It’s not until he’s close enough for Jeff to reach out and touch that he can tell that Christian has had a few drinks already. Jeff is prepared for Christian to punch him, what he’s not prepared for is the hand that gently grips his forearm and the soft, whiskey rough voice that says, “Jeff…” in that wistful way. He’s not prepared for Christian to still want him. 

“Come on, I’ve got a hotel room just downtown,” Christian manages to sound gruff and yet pleading, conciliatory. 

“Christian,” Jeff lets the name out in a long breath that sounds anything but hopeful. He knows the young man heard the sound of rejection as Christian turns his face away, hiding behind a curtain of silky hair. “You have to let me go. I’m no good for you. You’ve got everything in front of you and…”

Christian’s expression goes soft and vulnerable for just a second before the plush mouth is twisting into something disdainful. “Don’t make this about me, as if you’re blowing me off for my own good.”

Biting his bottom lip, Jeff watches again as those baby blue eyes fill with heartbreak and insecurity before Christian steels himself, looking at Jeff earnestly as he says, “Let me go with you.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
Prompt: _RPS, JDM/Christian Kane, Come What May --Moulin Rouge  
_ AN: This directly follows the fic above and is the last in the series.   
  


Jeff’s breath caught in his throat. He had done nothing but break this boy’s heart into tiny fragments because he was too scared to risk his own, and yet, Christian was still willing to reach out, to ask for what he wanted with honest intensity. 

And Jeff still couldn’t say no, no matter what the reasons in his head for why he should. Because he had never before felt like he did with Christian, never had he felt like he could vanish inside a kiss, never felt like his heart was literally singing inside his chest, singing Kane’s songs. 

“Let’s get a cab,” Jeff said in a rough voice. 

Things were different from the moment the hotel room door shut behind them. Jeff didn’t shove Christian into the door, but pulled the younger man into his larger body. He finally gave into his need to gently brush long chestnut strands out of the way, hold Christian’s face in his hands like Christian always did in on-screen love scenes. The kiss wasn’t the same as before either. He licked inside Christian’s mouth, asking permission instead of stealing something that wasn’t his to take. 

The changes had Christian balking, pulling away, but just because Jeff was asking permission didn’t meant that Jeff would let him go. Jeff brought his arms down to wrap around Christian, caging him again which seemed to reassure the boy. Jeff stripped off the younger man’s clothes as frantically as ever, eager as ever to get to the prize inside. 

And he shoved Christian back onto the bed as he always did, watching as Christian fell with the grace earned through a million stunts. Christian relaxed back, open and vulnerable and exposed and uncomfortable with being so. But even being uncomfortable, even after everything that Jeff had done, Christian let Jeff see it all. 

Jeff sucked bruises into tan skin, wanting as always to hear Christian’s bitten off whine of pleasure/pain, wanting as always to mark Christian as his even knowing that Christian would regret them come morning. But this time he planned to stick around so that those bruises would be like a permanent brand. 

Pulling Christian’s legs up so that muscular thighs rested against his hairy chest, Jeff watched as Christian turned his face away as Jeff fingered him, clenched beautiful eyes shut as if denying what his body was clearly saying as lean hips bore down on Jeff’s hand. But all Jeff had to do was lay his hand on Christian’s cheek to have Christian opening those eyes and turning his face towards that affection. All Jeff had to do was reach out. 

But the real difference wasn’t until after, after Christian had cum arching into Jeff’s hand and Jeff had cum buried deep inside Christian’s now pliant body. It wasn’t until Jeff left the bed momentarily to throw the condom away and came back to see Christian had rolled away and curled up on his side. Normally Jeff would walk away, convincing himself that it was just a fling, that Christian understood, that Christian really was his own stereotype. 

Jeff slid under the crisp sheet and curled up against Christian’s stiff back. Unsurprisingly Christian started, moving away and turning to look at Jeff, blue eyes blank with no expectations, no hope. He couldn’t help the arms that reached out to hold, but Christian wouldn’t be caged. 

“What’re you…?”

“I do mean it. I meant every bit of it.” Jeff couldn’t resist kissing those plump lips even if they were frowning, kissing Christian like they had all the time in the world, like he wanted to do it until his dying day. 

And maybe Jeff wasn’t ready to say it and Christian wasn’t ready to hear it, but when Jeff said, “Come what may,” the ‘I will love you’ was understood. 


	11. Chapter 11

_Kane RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, "I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong/I've known it from the moment that we met, so no doubt in my mind where you belong" (To Make You Feel My Love, Garth Brooks)_  


Steve could see that Christian had been burned before, with a blowtorch from the looks of it. They hadn’t known each other that long, but Steve had felt an immediate connection, sitting there on the floor of his house. They had eyes only for each other despite the crowd of friends around them as they sang old songs, songs from both of their childhoods. Steve had let the man play his guitar for Christ’s sake. 

Since then they had spent countless hours together, mostly holed up in Steve’s house, writing songs, smoking, and drinking. Christian would drop the bravado and the defensiveness in favor of an intimacy that came easier than Steve had ever experienced. Christian would laugh freely, rolling around on Steve’s floor like an excited dog. He’d close blue eyes to concentrate on the music in his head, comfortable enough to forget that Steve was there. They’d knock shoulders and sit thigh to thigh, rest their beers on each other. Christian would look at him sometimes, stare at him like Steve hung the moon and stars. 

But then Christian would remember. Blue eyes would find somewhere else to look, his body would be turned away, his heat suddenly disappearing. Christian would always down the rest of his beer then, as if trying to drown the memories, before retreating to the kitchen to get another. It was frustrating and heartbreaking and infuriating to know that someone had done that to Christian. 

But the worst was the knowledge that there was nothing that Steve could do. Christian had to make up his own mind whether it was worth it to take a chance, whether Steve was worth it. All Steve could do was smile when Christian returned with another beer to down, slide close again to show Christian something on the guitar. 

But then the day came when Christian didn’t move away, didn’t reach for alcohol. The day that Christian simply lifted his chin, inviting Steve in for that kiss that Steve had been waiting for since the day they met. Then Steve set about showing Christian about love. 


	12. Chapter 12

_Kane RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, spanked with a wooden spoon (Jan 12, 2010)_

Christian’s on his knees on the bed, his ass raised by a body pillow, his hands cuffed together and secured to the sturdy headboard with rope, his legs hampered by the spreader bar between his thighs. 

Christian’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t stop him from fighting the restraints. He’s not testing them, not testing Steve, he’s really trying to get loose, really letting loose himself. 

Steve watches as Christian yanks hard on his wrists, bucks and writhes, tries to get his knees more under him for leverage and growls in frustration. But Steve isn’t just a passive observer. Steve started with his hand, a few hits just to watch the pink tinge rise up on creamy skin. But Steve’s favorite is a wooden spoon. He supposes it says something about him, something about his love of cooking and his love of Christian, something about being both punishment and comfort. 

That’s what this is. Steve whacks Christian’s ass with the spoon until its cherry red, until Steve knows that Christian’s going to have a hard time sitting down this week. ‘Course that’s why Steve only chooses the spoon from amongst their toys when Christian has a little time off. 

Steve spanks him until Christian stops jerking and writhing, stops fighting against everything and himself. In the silence then, Steve can better hear what Christian’s saying in a hoarse, wrecked voice. “Don’t…Stop, please, Steve, no, don’t…”

But still Steve doesn’t hear the word that makes it all stop. Christian doesn’t want to be an obedient sub, doesn’t *need* that. Christian needs to fight, needs to rage, needs to hurt and be forced, forced to let go, forced to surrender. And Christian needs to know all the while that Steve won’t be scared away, that Steve will be there to comfort him when he finally breaks. 

Christian shies away when Steve begins to prepare him, whimpering out, “No, please don’t…” until Steve’s fingers are brushing his prostate and Christian’s whimpers turn into a sharp cry. Steve leans his weight on one forearm across Christian’s upper back as he presses insistently inside. He knows that every thrust is shoving his hipbones into the bruised flesh of Christian’s ass, but he also can feel Christian’s hard length in his other hand as he strokes it in rhythm. 

Defeated now, willing and wanton, Christian presses back into the brutal thrusts, still making little mewling noises that sound as much from pain as pleasure. Steve makes sure that Christian comes first, makes sure that he fucks Christian through it before Steve himself is filling the condom. 

Gently, Steve removes his restraining arm from Christian’s back and kisses Christian’s temple before gripping the condom and pulling out. Christian lies still, exhausted and overcome. But Steve can’t rest because this part of the scene is just as important as the spanking. 


	13. Chapter 13

_RPS, Christian Kane/Jensen Ackles (ending up Christian Kane/Tim Hutton), "Every time you break Chris, Jensen, I have to put him back together. I do that because I love him, and for the record, you don't deserve him"  
  
_

Tim had known about Jensen from the beginning. It was hard to misinterpret the sappy doe-eyed expression on Christian’s face when talking about the younger man. It had been disappointing because the more than Tim got to know Christian the more he *wanted* Christian as more than a really nice piece of ass. Christian was smarter than anyone thought. He was genuine and loyal, bold and yet adorably shy sometimes. 

Christian was also surprisingly easy to read. It was easy for Tim to tell when it was Jensen’s name on Christian’s phone. And it wasn’t long before Tim saw the pattern that Christian was rarely as thrilled when he got off the phone as when he saw who was calling. 

But the dejected look on Christian’s face when he got off the phone with Jensen was nothing compared to the first time that Christian went up to Vancouver for a visit. Maybe Tim was just that great of a friend or maybe he was a masochistic bastard, but he had called Christian the night that he had gotten back into town to find out how the trip had been. 

Christian had sounded despondent and more than a little drunk on the phone so Tim had invited himself over to find out what was wrong. By the time he got there, Christian had nearly drunk himself into a coma. Tim had been so scared by Christian’s lack of response he had called the set medic, and then spent the rest of the night holding Christian’s exhausted limp body over the toilet. 

The next morning, Christian had been humiliated and still wouldn’t tell what Jensen had done. But Tim had known Christian long enough to understand. Christian had a lot of friends, he was gregarious and loyal and protective, but he didn’t really know what to do when he was hurt. He was self-reliant and self-destructive. 

The second time that Christian came back from a ‘Jensen visit’, Christian didn’t answer his phone. Tim almost had a heart attack trying to find him. He looked in the windows of Christian’s apartment (thank God he lived on the ground floor), searched the bars, but finally found the younger man at the set’s gym. Christian had been on the treadmill and had obviously been there far too long and his hands were taped like he’d been at the bags. Tim had managed to coax Christian out of the gym, but not back to Tim’s place. Christian went home alone, leaving Tim the one feeling miserable and alone. 

The third time, Jensen came to visit Christian and Tim got to see firsthand exactly what was going on. They were at a club, not usually Christian’s scene to begin with. And then Jensen basically ignored Christian all night. Well, not completely. Jensen gave Christian enough attention to keep the long-haired musician following him like a love-sick school boy. They’d go to the bar together and Jensen would lean into Christian, stroking chestnut hair back so that he could whisper in Christian’s ear and an incautious hand would squeeze Christian’s hip. They’d come back with drinks though, and Jensen would go back to flirting with the many women entranced by Jensen’s looks. 

At one point, Christian had gotten too frustrated and gone off toward the backdoor of the club. Tim had followed at a slower pace, unable to part the crowd with his glare like Christian could. When he got outside, he had found Christian being pushed face first into a brick wall by a much larger man whose hands were already attempting to strip Christian out of his jeans. 

It didn’t take a genius to tell that Christian was acting out of pain and was too drunk to really be making decisions anyway. When Christian noticed Tim there, he chased the guy off himself. Christian’s unfastened belt dug into Tim’s abdomen when he grabbed the younger man in a fierce hug, but Tim barely felt it. The pain he felt at the anguished, defeated expression on Christian’s face was much worse. 

For a second, Tim had thought that his unwavering comfort and support had gotten through to Christian, but then Christian had gone back inside, back to Jensen. It was obvious that Jensen had barely noticed Christian’s absence, but they still left together, Jensen’s arm slung around the shorter man’s broad shoulders. 

That had been a week ago. Now Tim is just finishing dressing in his own clothes in his trailer when there’s a knock at the door. He’s not surprised that it’s Christian, they have a standing dinner date any night that filming lets them go in time. What he is surprised at is Christian’s meek demeanor as he enters Tim’s trailer. 

“Listen, Tim, can we…can we just stay in tonight, or something?”

Tim is just surprised enough to stay silent a beat too long. Christian has never let his personal problems with Jensen affect filming or his friendship with the Leverage cast and crew, no matter the shadows hiding behind his smirks. And this is certainly the closest Christian has ever come to talking about the problem with Tim. 

“Jensen, he keeps calling and I-I don’t really want to talk to him tonight,” Christian looks so apologetic as he says it, like he’s ruining Tim’s evening or something by having a bad night. But he smiles gratefully as Tim steps forward to take Christian’s phone from him. 

“Let’s go back to my place and we’ll order pizza and watch the game.”

It’s when Tim is hiding in the kitchen ordering the food that Tim takes the time to call Jensen on Christian’s phone. He doesn’t let Jensen get past “Chris, baby,” before he introduces himself as Christian’s coworker. Then he lets Jensen have it. "Every time you break Chris, Jensen, I have to put him back together. I do that because I love him, and for the record, you don't deserve him."

This time, Tim’s certain that he’s getting through to Christian. For once, Christian came to him looking for comfort, giving up the phone to him like Christian was looking for somewhere to lay his burden. They spend the rest of the night with Christian’s head on Tim’s lap, Tim’s long fingers carding through Christian’s long, silky hair. 

*****************************************************

_Leverage RPS, Tim/Chris, Tim goes to the Kane shows in Portland, he shields Chris from overenthusiastic fangirls, he makes sure he gets home safely...all because it's Chris. He never really knew how much it was appreciated until now_   
  


Sometimes Tim thinks that Chris has the survival instinct of a gnat. On set, Chris’s cat-like reflexes have saved him and his costars from many an accident, but at these Kane shows, Chris seems like he would happily be mauled to death to make his fans happy. It’s ridiculous. 

Much less how much Christian drinks at these damn things. So Tim goes to all the Kane shows in Portland, determined to save Chris from himself. After the show, he makes sure to get in between Chris and the really overzealous fan and then he waits to take Chris home in a cab. 

Ok, so maybe that’s not the only reason he goes. He likes to hear Chris play, loves to hear all that emotion in Christian’s expressive voice, loves to see Chris that fucking happy. He likes to see Chris so exposed with his long-time friends, Chris without any of his walls despite that Tim knows that Steve is Jensen’s friend too. And Tim loves how even though Chris gets all excited to see his old friends, like a puppy about to wet itself, Chris never forgets to include his new friends from Leverage. He never forgets about Tim. 

Still Tim’s job as protector is pretty thankless and tonight he was kicked in the shins multiple times trying to stop a stampede. But he’ll keep doing it, because it’s *Chris*. Tim isn’t going to pressure Chris for anything more, not ever and certainly not so soon after the break-up with Jensen. He just wants to be near Chris, wants to protect Chris, wants to make Chris happy and wipe away the memory of Chris’s anguish from both their minds. 

Chris lays his head on Tim’s shoulder in the cab ride, comfortable now with him as Chris is with Steve and his other friends. But this time when Tim is getting Chris out of the cab, Chris says, “Tell the cab not to wait.”

Normally Tim has the cab wait as he gets Chris settled in bed and then goes to his own empty apartment. But he takes Chris at his (drunken) word and pays the cab driver. 

Maybe Chris isn’t all that drunk, but Tim still wraps his arms around the younger man as they walk and takes the keys from Chris to open the door, just like he always does. But this time, Chris is clinging back, clinging to him like Tim is the only lifeline Chris has left. And Tim is really not prepared for Chris to pull him forward by his t-shirt into a sloppy, desperate, God-so-good kiss. 

“Always protecting me, always looking out for me. Why?” Christian asks with the naïveté of a little boy. “I have to take care of myself, I’ve always had…to take care of myself.”

Tim wraps a possessive hand around Christian’s neck and says, “You know why.”

Amazingly, Chris smiles then, that little boy smile of getting something wonderful truly unexpectedly. “Nobody’s ever…”

And Tim understands, understands that Chris has worked hard to appear as someone who didn’t need help. Tim had been afraid that Chris would react badly if he knew what Tim was doing, but it appears Chris appreciates the gesture of Tim trying to protect, trying to take care of him. 

“Stay,” Christian says with serious eyes and licentious lips.

For Tim, there’s only one answer to that. 


	14. Chapter 14

_RPS, Chris/Steve, one of them starts drinking way too much and the other pays the price_   
  


Christian knows that it’s really all his fault. He’s not home with Steve as much as he’d like to be, as much as Steve needs him to be. He’s not there to watch Steve, to look out for him, to keep him safe. Comforting someone just doesn’t work as well by phone. Phone sex will never be as good, as satisfying as real sex. 

So Christian knows that Steve’s drinking is his fault. They both drink, sometimes they drink a lot, but no matter what it looks like to the fans, they don’t spend most of their nights drunk. Or at least, they didn’t, Christian doesn’t. But the last two months, Steve’s been drunk a lot more than ever before. He’s drinking during the day, drinking enough that their friends have been calling Christian.

It’s a long weekend and Christian had rushed straight to LA. He’s trying, really. He’s tried to talk to Steve about it before. 

But it’s obvious he’s not trying hard enough when he unlocks Steve’s door and steps inside to find Steve drinking in the middle of the day. Not a beer to relax, but a glass of Jack Daniels that’s clearly not Steve’s first today. 

Steve’s on the couch and doesn’t even seem to notice Christian until he drops his duffel on the hardwood floor. When Steve looks at him, his blue eyes are red rimmed and bleary, his skin pale and waxy. He makes an attempt to smile. 

“Christian, when’d you get in?” Steve says, his low voice slurring all the words together into a deep rumble. 

“Just now,” Christian says. 

“That’s great,” Steve says, sloshing the whisky on his blue shirt as he attempts to get off the couch. Attempts and fails. 

Christian tucks his hair behind his ears and sits on the couch next to Steve. “Sweetheart, what’re you doin’? How many drinks have you had today?” His voice is purposefully low and gentle, but Steve’s apparently ready for a fight. 

“Not doin’ nothin’. What do you care?” Steve scowls, his face twisting into something unrecognizable. This time when he stands, he makes it onto his feet. 

“Steve, where’re you goin’? Sit back down and we’ll just watch tv for a while, have a night in. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Oh, Chris wants to talk, does he?” Steve sneers. “Funny how you want me to tell you every little thing, but YOU, you don’t even tell me when you cracked your head open. I heard it on the internet!”

Christian stands now. “I didn’t want to worry you. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Steve turns away but not before Christian can see tears shimmering in his eyes. “I need some air,” Steve says putting down his drink on the hall table and picking up his keys. “I’m just gonna walk around the block.”

Christian nods, tries to give Steve a little space if that’s what he needs. This is all his fault, and he’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. 

And then he hears Steve’s car starting. He’s worked on that car enough to know it anywhere. “You fucker,” Christian growls as he yanks open the door and darts into the street. He thought Steve was just taking his house keys. 

Opening the passenger door, Steve won’t even look at him. Christian doesn’t get out a word before Steve puts the car in drive, forcing Christian to jump inside. 

“Godammit, Steve,” Christian growls, losing the temper he’s been trying to control. “What’n the hell do you think you’re doing?! Stop the car!”

Steve still won’t look at him, but Christian can tell that Steve’s speeding up. His hands are reaching up to scrub through his hair in frustration when out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car coming at them on his side. 

For one minute, Christian’s breath catches and all he thinks is that he never put on his seatbelt, before there’s the screeching of metal and the squealing of tires, red in front of his closed eyes and pain like he’s never felt.

***********************************************

_RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, I don't want to die_

Christian wakes to searing pain like a blanket covering him from head to toe, stealing his breath. It takes a few moments for the feeling to dissipate enough for him to breathe, enough for the pain to separate into separate entities. Without thinking he shifts trying to get more comfortable and is rewarded with slicing pain in his right side. 

Hissing, he tries to breathe shallowly and then opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is Steve who looks…well, Steve still looks like shit, but he doesn’t seem to be hurt. He seems to be talking but Christian can’t seem to hear over the roaring in his ears as he looks down at himself. 

The car had crushed in on him, trapping him in place. There’s so much blood, dark soppy patches on his jeans and flannel button-down. He can’t tell where it’s coming from. 

“Christian.” He feels like he ‘wakes up’ again at the touch of Steve’s hand to his arm. He can only breathe in short gasping pants that have his lungs burning. Something thick and sticky is flowing down the right side of his face, but Christian is afraid to even move his left arm to wipe it away and instead clenches his hand spasmodically in the seat cushion. 

“Jesus Christ, Christian, please,” Christian can’t help but respond to the anguish in Steve’s voice. He turns his head, but it feels like his head keeps turning even though he can feel his cheek against the headrest. Black spots dance in his vision so he slowly blinks once, twice before focusing again on Steve’s face. 

Steve is paler now, his eyes red and scrunched up like he wants to cry, his lips red as blood floods to his face. “Hey,” Christian says, but he barely recognizes his own voice. It isn’t a croak or a growl, it’s a thin whisper. 

He wants to shift again, wants to do *anything* to make the pain somehow less. His fingers start to feel cold. He wants to hold Steve’s hand, wants Steve to warm his fingers, but he doesn’t dare. He’s afraid he’ll hold on too tight, too desperately to Steve’s hand and Steve will know, know how scared Christian is, how much in pain he’s in. Christian doesn’t want Steve to have to deal with that. 

Christian swallows which hurts even more than breathing and tries to talk again. “Steve, you ‘k?”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobs, crying now, his face blotchy. “I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, no,” Christian says. “It’s not your fault, Steve.”

Christian has to lean his head more on the headrest. He meant to continue, to comfort Steve more, but he feels like he doesn’t have enough air because he can’t get a deep breath. Clenching his hand in the seat harder, Christian starts to pant faster. Ice has lodged in his chest, fear. He doesn’t think that he’ll make it out of this car. 

He thinks about his momma, his Daddy at home in Tulsa, thinks about them getting the news. He wants to see them again, wants to tell them he loves them one more time. He wants to do and say so many things that he should have done and said before now. His family, his friends, Steve…he doesn’t want to die like this. 

“It’s my fault.” Christian pants for a minute and he can feel tears welling in his own eyes, but he doesn’t have breath for sobs. “I should have…been what you need. And now…I don’t want to die.” His words come out each one their own breath. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. If these are his last moments on Earth, last moments with *Steve*, he should be comforting his lover. Everyone has to die, it had to happen to him eventually and usually he’s stupidly willing to risk his own life for a thrill, never worrying about the consequences, but not now. Not with Steve falling apart beside him. Not with everything that’s between them now.

What if there’s nothing on the other side? What if he just doesn’t wake up and all these thoughts, all his plans and hopes for the future, for *tomorrow* just echo in a void of time and space? What if there’s no *him* on the other side, no consciousness or memories? He doesn’t want all these memories, all his love for these people to disappear. He wanted to have *time* with Steve because, right now, on his deathbed, his career doesn’t seem to matter a whole lot, doesn’t matter as much as Steve beside him in bed, Steve’s arms around him. 

Steve’s moving over him now, trying to control the sobs as he presses a kiss to Christian’s temple, to his lips. But it feels far away, and Christian’s cold and he can’t seem to breathe at all anymore. “Love you.”

************************************************

_RPS, Steve/Chris, not letting go_   
  


It doesn’t occur to Steve to pick up Christian’s hand until after he’s passed out again. Steve can hear each short panting breath, so loud in the stifling interior of Steve’s old car. He can smell the blood that Christian is still losing, taste it, feels like he can hear it too, trickling like a waterfall to the rhythm of Steve’s own heartbeat, too fast and frantic, too much. Christian’s clothes are soaked with it, dark stains like it isn’t blood at all, like Christian had just spilled something on himself again, the clumsy bastard. 

Steve clutches at Christian’s hand now that it’s limp and rubs warmth back into it. God, what has he done? He had just wanted to take care of Christian, wanted to feel like he wasn’t just a responsibility, a burden to the other man. They barely had any time together anymore and the little time they did have, he felt like Christian was pushing away, putting on this happy face like Christian wasn’t ever tired or frustrated or hurt, like he didn’t trust Steve to take care of him, to be there for him. 

He just wanted the man he loved back, the Christian that petulantly whined at Steve to massage his aching neck, the one who growled and bitched over the phone about everything and nothing, the one who let Steve see his insecurities, his fears, not this pod person who was too considerate, too careful. 

But like an idiot, Steve had made himself a real burden, had proved that he wasn’t capable of being the person that Christian could lean on. The more he drank, the more things spiraled out of his control, his relationship, his career, his friendships, and so the more he drank. 

And what he wouldn’t give to take it all back. The only person who was supposed to be hurt was him, not Christian, not like…Tears begin to slip from blue eyes again and sobs build in his chest. 

“Christian, please, please, I’m so sorry.” Steve’s breath shudders in and out of his lungs. “I’ll do anything baby, I swear, I swear I’ll be the man you need. Just, please, don’t let go.”

Steve hears the sirens of the ambulance and hears the shouting of the man whose car had hit them, but Steve can’t let go, can’t let go…

Until strong arms wrap around his waist and rip him out of the car screaming. 

***********************************************

 _Kane RPS Chris/Steve, Lost without you by my side_  
  
Steve is waiting in the hospital waiting room, sitting in one of those chairs with the short back that digs into his spine. He can’t really remember what all the police officers had asked him, what they said or whether they took a breathalyzer or anything. But he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have taken him here if he weren’t Christian’s emergency contact. 

Chris’s momma would be so pissed if she knew that she weren’t the first one called. She loves Steve, but Chris is her baby boy. Steve remembers when Christian told him, how Christian had laughed and said it was because he didn’t want his momma called every time there was a minor thing on set. Christian had no idea how much those words had hurt Steve, that Christian didn’t _want_ Steve to be the first to know, didn’t think that Steve would _want_ to be the first to know. 

Not that it mattered now. Steve looks down at his hands, small traces of blood under his fingernails, not his blood. It’s so _wrong_. Christian was _dying_ beside him, blood running in rivulets down the right side of his face, soaking him, but Steve went unscathed. Steve doesn’t even have blood on his clothes, much less an injury, some outward sign of what he’s done, what he’s been through, what he’s _lost_. 

He knows he should call Christian’s parents, his friends, _their_ friends. But he can’t imagine what to say. They all deserve to know, Christian deserves to have all of his loved ones around, but, right now, Steve just wants to be alone, alone until Christian is back by his side. 

Fuck, he feels like he’s missing a limb. He can’t imagine life without Chris. Even when they’re apart, Steve knows he’s a phone call, a plane ride, a weekend away. The thought that Christian just won’t be there, that Steve will never talk to him again, never hold him again…the idea that their future together is just gone, that Steve will keep living, living some other future that Christian doesn’t get to have is…is impossible. 

He wishes that he’d just talked to Christian, wishes that he had just kept his mouth shut, wishes the anything, _everything_ were different. He’ll take Christian in whatever manifestation, deal with however Christian wants to act, he’ll gladly take Christian alive and hating him as long as Christian is _alive_. 

Finally, Steve pulls his phone from his pocket, glaring down at the also unscarred device. He’s on the verge of sobbing again as the line connects. “Mom?”

********************************************************************  
  
 _Kane RPS Steve/Chris, Overcoming these fears_  
  


Steve now sits in Christian’s hospital room. The chair is pulled up close to the bed, but not too close. He’s close enough to touch, to grasp Christian’s hand again, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t have the right, not after all this. 

His mom is making the telephone calls now that they know Christian is going to be ok. Steve huffs to himself. As if you could call this _ok_. Christian looks small and pale lying underneath white hospital sheets, unmoving in a way that isn’t like Christian at all. Christian in motion is always bigger than life, ten feet tall and bullet-proof. Now he looks fragile and vulnerable and _helpless_. 

The right side of Christian’s face is black and blue, stitches holding together swollen skin. His right arm and leg are broken. Jesus, Christian broke his thigh bone. Steve doesn’t even want to think about the amount of force needed for that, the amount of pain that Christian had to be in. The car also embedded in Christian’s right side, breaking a few ribs but managing not to pierce any internal organs. He’ll have some impressive scars. Oh, and he has a cervical strain in his neck. 

Steve can’t comprehend how lucky he is, how lucky he is to just sit here and look at Christian’s relatively unharmed left side, listen to his breathing that only sounds a little short because of all the painkillers. But Christian…Christian’s not lucky. He’s going to be so mad. There are pins in his leg, an intra-something fixation and it’ll take at least three months to heal, probably more, months of pain and limited mobility. All because of Steve, because of Steve’s selfishness and self-pity. 

He practically rockets out of his seat when a tall man darts into the room. It takes him a minute to realize that it’s Jensen. Jensen is in LA so, of course, he’d be able to get here quickly. Steve’s not prepared, though, for Jensen to come over for him, for Jensen to say his name, say “Steve” in that compassionate voice. He’s barely out of his chair when Jensen wraps him up in a hug. He doesn’t deserve such kindness. 

The hug is both too long and too short for Steve as Jensen steps back to look at Christian’s still form again. Jensen takes a step closer, closing that distance that is too far for Steve and gripping Christian’s un-casted hand, though he’s careful of the IV line. 

Stumbling to his feet, Steve is reminded of stumbling off the couch earlier. He’s crying again before he’s even finished the thought. “M-maybe I should go now, n-now that you can stay with him…”

Jensen looks at him with wet, confused eyes. “Steve,” he says in a different tone of voice, one soft and disappointed. “What’s going on with you?”

Steve remembers where he is just in time not to shout and instead hisses, “I almost killed him, Jensen. Just because I was upset that he was being too nice, of all things.”

Jensen stares at him stunned for a minute, even though Steve knows that his mom has probably already told Jensen that he was driving drunk, not that Jensen probably couldn’t have figured that out. 

“You two are unbelievable,” Jensen hisses himself before dragging Steve out into the hallway. “Christian is being too nice because he’s just as scared of losing you as you are of losing him. You have so little time together,” Jensen shrugs. “He was trying to give you what you needed.”

“I needed him,” Steve says close to sobbing again. “It doesn’t matter what he felt before, he’ll hate me for this and I don’t blame him. I hate me.”

Jensen pulls him back into the room. “But he needs you. So maybe you should focus on that.”

************************************************************

 _Kane RPS Steve/Chris, We will get through this_  
  


Jensen has pulled up a chair next to Steve, and they’re sitting in silence when Christian finally flutters long lashes. Steve knows what’s going to happen seconds before Christian shifts and moans low in pain. 

Immediately Steve abandons his chair and abandons the idea of not touching Christian, of giving Christian space. Christian is just starting to lift his one good hand when Steve catches it. 

“Shhh, Chris, baby, lie still. You’re in the hospital.”

“Steve?” Christian asks in that still thin voice as his breathing starts to speed up and get shorter. He’s looking up at Steve now, blue eyes round with pain and confusion, eyes pleading like Steve is his only salvation. He’s openly showing his pain and his need. Clutching Steve’s hand, Christian squeezes and releases it sporadically. Steve knows he’s doing it instead of shifting the way he wants to, and he can’t help feeling proud that Christian is using him to ease his own pain, however, little it helps. 

Steve smiles down and gently sweeps a dark curl off of Christian’s forehead before gently rubbing Christian’s forehead with his thumb. “I’m here. You’re gonna be ok. I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

“Hurts,” Christian says pathetically, all the words he can get out. Steve would give anything to take that pain away. 

The doctor sweeps in then, trailed by Jensen. Steve hadn’t even noticed the other man leave the room. He knows that Jensen is smirking at the way that Christian refuses to let Steve step back to let the doctor work, but Steve can’t focus on him, can only focus on doing anything, _everything_ he can for the man in that bed. They’re gonna get through this, and Steve isn’t going to make the same mistake again. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mpreg ficlets

_Kane RPS, Steve/Chris, flushed desperate and gorgeous_   
  


Steve watches Christian from the doorway of their room, the glass of water forgotten in his hand. Christian’s in the middle of their bed, on his hands and knees, the beads of sweat on his back glistening in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows. Still, it’s the shadowed view of Christian’s distended belly hanging down towards the mattress that really makes Steve swallow hard. 

Christian’s flushed, desperate, and gorgeous. He’s constantly shifting, clenching the old cream-colored sheets in his fists, tossing damp tendrils of hair away from his face, trying to get his knees wider as he rhythmically rocks his hips back. He’s panting and groaning and Steve loves Christian this way, so lost in the sensations that he doesn’t give a damn how he looks or sounds. 

Steve is just thinking that it shouldn’t be surprising that this moment would remind him of how they got pregnant to begin with when Christian lifts his head to look at him, letting Steve see the tense lines of pain in his face, the beautiful blue eyes bright and wet and unconsciously pleading. 

Stepping into the room then, Steve places the glass on the bedside table before kneeling on the bed with _his Christian_. One hand goes immediately to the stretched skin of Christian’s belly while the other is pushing the hair away from Christian’s face so that Steve can rest his lips against Christian’s temple. 

Slowly, Steve pulls Christian up on his knees and Christian sags back against Steve’s also naked body taking the offered comfort, his restless hands kneading Steve’s muscular thighs like an overgrown cat. After nine months of varying levels of discomfort, Steve’s really tired of seeing Christian in pain. 

With a sudden grunt, Christian is falling forward back onto his hands again, thrusting his hips back again like he wants to bear down. But it’s not time yet, so Steve runs his hands up Christian’s back to his hair and then sets about pulling the long chestnut hair back into a ponytail again, even though Christian keeps pulling it out in frustrated pain. 

“Hey, c’mon let’s lay down,” Steve whispers as he’s already pulling on Christian’s broad shoulders to get him to lie down on his side, back to Steve’s chest, Steve’s hands curled around Christian’s belly. Yeah, Steve likes Christian flushed and panting and desperate for Steve’s touch, but he thinks Christian is the most gorgeous he’s ever been just like this.

************************************************************ 

_Kane RPS, Steve/Chris, it's a little late for that_   
  


Steve is leaning over him, reaching into the drawer in the bedside table for a condom. Christian is naked on his back, one leg thrown over Steve’s shoulder already and his cock is hard, thick and red and drooling on his flat stomach. 

But all Christian can think as Steve carefully rolls the condom on is, “It’s a little late for that.” He remembers every time that they were too drunk, too horny to remember to use a condom, or at least, he remembers waking up with Steve’s cum still leaking out of his ass and drying on the inside of his thighs. 

The thought’s enough to take a lot of the urgency out of the moment for him and he gasps in surprised pain as Steve pushes inside. That sharp burning friction changes to pleasurable fullness quick enough and then Steve is snapping his hips, aiming for that spot that has Christian seeing stars and throwing his head back on the pillow. 

And still Christian is thinking about the condom. Worries about it. He’s never had a problem concentrating on Steve fucking him into the mattress, but all he wants right now is to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pull the blonde down even if it means folding himself in half. 

Steve’s thrusts slow, apparently sensing Christian’s neediness and Steve mouths along Christian’s straining neck, wet and sloppy. 

They never made any promises. They love each other and are *in love* with each other but both have always known that their careers didn’t leave time enough for the traditional relationship or family. Christian had resigned himself to that fact long ago. He just never thought that this could happen, obviously neither of them did. It’s just so rare. 

Christian has known he’s pregnant for a few weeks now, and he can’t tell Steve. The closest he came was two weeks ago and he can still hear Steve laughing at the idea, can still hear Steve’s words ringing in his ears, “We can’t have kids, Chris. Look at us. I’m never in one place and you can’t manage not to get hurt on set for more than two weeks. What kinda life would that be?”

****************************************************************

_Kane RPS, Steve/Chris, Something you want to tell me?_   
  


“Something you want to tell me?”

Christian recognizes the voice immediately, he’d recognize Steve anywhere, even if the last thing he would have expected is for Steve to show up here, now. 

It’s the last day of filming Leverage this season and Christian is in his second month. He hasn’t seen Steve for more than a month, which isn’t exactly that unusual except that he has had time to visit Steve and Steve undoubtedly knows it. It’s probably the reason Steve is here now, he never did like to be ignored. 

It’s been a difficult month, a month in which Christian had to tell the Leverage execs and the record execs and worse, his momma that he was pregnant. He had to tell her that he was going to be a single father, that Steve didn’t want it. 

It’s been two months that Christian has been nauseous and vomiting and fatigued and dizzy and uncoordinated, a month that he’s had to pee every fifth second. And his nipples are sore and tender like after Steve’s gone at ‘em all night, which is not what he wants to think about every time his tight shirts rub against them. 

It’s been the loneliest two months of his life despite that he’s had a constant companion, a *life* growing inside him. Course he’s also had his Leverage crew, particularly Gina who hovers and keeps telling him how men’s pregnancies are difficult because ‘evolution is just a series of compromises’ or some shit. 

Yeah, he’s wanted Steve to be with him every second that he’s been awake since he figured it out, but the last thing that he can handle is Steve rejecting him to his face. But Christian thinks the cat might be out of the bag since right now Steve can see Gina and Tim hovering around him and Tim has his hand pressed against Christian’s belly. 

*****************************************************************

_RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, that's not what i said_   
  


When Christian had first said the words, “I’m pregnant”, all Steve had wanted to do was knock Tim’s hand out of the way and replace it with his own. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that Christian is going to allow Steve to touch his belly or any other part of him anytime soon. 

“That’s not what I said,” Steve says, clinging to his calm resolve by a thread as Christian paces the small trailer in an effort not to look at Steve. 

“It IS what you said. You said that people like us shouldn’t have kids!” Christian is yelling loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Well I didn’t know you having one was an option!” Steve yells himself, giving Christian the fight he apparently wants. “Jesus, Chris, you should have told me!”

“I was trying to,” Christian’s voice is thin and strained now. 

But right now, Steve can’t focus on the pain in Christian’s voice, right now all Steve can think is ‘holy shit’. At the time when he had said they shouldn’t have kids he had meant it. Their lives were too crazy and chaotic and they liked it that way. He had just thought it was Christian being nostalgic for the white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a dog that people from Oklahoma were brought up to want. 

Steve covers his face with his hands for a moment. He can’t think with Christian right in front of him. Is he ready to have a kid? Is he ready to settle down? Ready to not be able to travel where he wants when he wants? Not to be able to smoke and drink and party with their friends and the band? He just never imagined…

“I need some air,” Steve says as he leaves the trailer. 

***********************************************************

_RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, that's not what i meant_   
  


Ok, so Steve hadn’t handled the news very well. He had walked out of the trailer, out of the studio and kept going. His fear had more than swamped that initial instinct to put his hands on Christian’s belly. 

It had taken two weeks. Two weeks for Steve to pull his head out of his ass (with the help of his mom). Two weeks for him to come to terms with the changes, with the things that he would have to give up. Two weeks for him to realize that what he’d get in return would be more than worth it. 

Except now, no one will let him talk to Christian. Yeah, yeah, he knows that that’s not real surprising. He knows that as afraid as he was, Christian had to have been terrified and Steve did nothing but make the whole thing worse. Steve had been certain that Christian would have run home to his momma. He spent three days camped out in a rental down the street from Christian’s parents’ house, but there was no sign of the long-haired musician. Steve had been too ashamed to knock on the door, too afraid that Chris’s Daddy would have chased him out with a shotgun. 

Now not being with Christian is the worst hell Steve can imagine. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the soft smile on Christian’s face when Tim was touching his belly. All Steve can hear in the silence he’s surrounded himself with is the pain in Christian’s voice the last time he had heard it. All he can think about is Christian alone and pregnant and scared and in pain and _oh God, what if something goes wrong?_

“Christian, I…I didn’t mean it. Christian, _please_ , I need to see you, I need to be with you. I want the baby. I want a baby with _you_ , Christian, and I want to be with you the whole way through this. Please, **_please_** …just let me see you.”

It’s maybe the tenth message he’s left on Christian’s phone. There’s really nothing left to do, nothing left to say, nothing but to wait for Christian to let him back in. 

*****************************************************

_Kane RPS, Steve/Chris, beginning to trust again_   
  


Christian lay on the bed in his Portland apartment, the same place he stayed in when Leverage was filming. But Leverage wasn’t filming right now, it was hiatus and everyone else had gone, but he was still here. 

He knew that if Steve were thinking straight, he could have figured out where Chris was. Christian loved his momma but he didn’t want to sit in the waiting room of the obstetrician’s office with her or David or any of his friends. It was embarrassing enough going alone, but at least he was used to the doctor here, even if he knew that he’d have to go home eventually. 

But it wasn’t really about being found, it was about him letting Steve back in. And Christian was scared. He didn’t want Steve to be with him just because Steve felt he should. He didn’t want to start to depend on Steve only for Steve to decide he couldn’t handle it again. Christian didn’t have the luxury of walking away or saying he wasn’t ready. 

Tears filled his eyes as he stared unseeing at the tv and he bit his lip in a vain attempt to keep them at bay. Holy fuck, he was going to drown in his own tears if this didn’t stop. He was alone and miserable and heartbroken and couldn’t even have a drink for fuck’s sake. The mere thought of his buddy Jack made his stomach roll, but Christian was damn sure there was nothing in there to throw up. Unless he started puking up internal organs. 

Great, he was becoming morbid, too. He knew there were things he needed to be doing. Nine months wasn’t really so long in the grand scheme of things and babies needed a lot of things, a lot of plans needed to be made. But now that he didn’t _have_ to get up and pretend to be ok at work, he had given in to the near constant headaches, nausea, and fatigue and stayed in bed. Or in the bathroom. Soon he’d actually have to have Gatorade delivered…

The knock on the door was so unexpected, Christian wasn’t sure the sound was real. Even though he had known it was coming, known Steve was coming ever since Christian had called back. Maybe he had just given up hope, assumed that as soon as he gave in to Steve’s pleading that the blonde musician would run away again. And just because Steve had shown up didn’t mean that Christian was ready to forgive him. 

But maybe this was the beginning of being able to trust again. 

*********************************************************************

 ** _Rebuilding trust_** (I actually can't refind this prompt, but I know it was there)

Steve has no idea what he’s going to say when Christian opened that door. He had been selfish before, only thinking how the pregnancy was going to affect him and not even considering Christian’s feelings. 

When Christian opens the door though, he doesn’t get the chance to speak. He gets a glimpse of Christian, pale and drawn and wearing sweats, before Christian is darting back inside the apartment, leaving the door still standing open with Steve in it. 

Frankly, Steve had been expecting a warmer welcome despite that he should be glad Christian didn’t actually slam the door in his face. Still he isn’t going to let Christian just run away from him. 

He’s still shutting the door when the sounds of Christian throwing up reach him, reverberating through the small apartment. Hurrying towards the sound, Steve wants to prove himself, wants to help, or at least be a comforting presence. 

He’s not expecting Christian to stumble off his knees at the sight of him, holding a hand over his mouth. 

“Take a shower,” Christian grits out. “You smell…smoke, I can’t handle…” Steve has barely figured out what Christian is talking about when the door shuts in his face. 

Dammit. Smoke. Steve knew better, had read tons of articles about pregnancy on the internet, but he was still screwing up, thinking of himself before Christian and the baby. He’d been so nervous that he had practically smoked a pack of cigarettes before coming up. The smell was obviously triggering Christian’s nausea. 

He showers with Christian’s soap and shampoo and brushes his teeth twice using an extra toothbrush in a drawer before he comes out. 

Christian is lying on his side on the bed, lightly shuddering, the taste of bile still in his mouth, completely worn out. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He’s supposed to make conversation with Steve, talk about things. He was supposed to keep it together for two damn seconds and not let Steve see him like this. He didn’t want Steve to pity him, to stay just because Christian couldn’t manage by himself. 

Christian feels a tickle, a single tear sliding along his nose. Great, now the waterworks have started, he thinks, turning his face into the pillow and sniffling. Steve, of course, picks that moment to open the bathroom door. 

Steve comes out of the bathroom in just a towel, unsure of how he’s going to get his clothes out of here without Christian smelling them again. He stops worrying about it when he sees Christian’s form on the bed, curled in on himself and shivering. 

“Christian?” Steve asks, immediately kneeling on the bed and brushing back strands of dark hair that have escaped the band. Steve doesn’t think that he has ever seen Christian cry in the years that they’ve known each other, but it’s obvious that that’s what Christian is doing now. “Baby?”

“Don’t,” Christian growls the words more than says them. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks desperately. He needs to tell Steve how it’s going to be, give Steve another chance to leave before either of them is in too deep. 

But Steve never was scared of him and Steve is pulling up the covers and wrapping himself around Christian, cocooning them. 

Christian cries harder then, letting out his fears and frustration, his feelings of abandonment and loneliness. He wants to stop, tries to, but this time he can’t dam up all his hormone-fueled emotions. He lets Steve hold him, comfort him with soft words and gentle hands. 

********************************************************************

**_Kane RPS Chris/Steve, Lost without you by my side  
  
_ **

For a moment, Christian can’t think as he watches Steve leave his trailer. He can’t comprehend it for a minute. 

But a minute is all the reprieve that he gets before he crashes to the ground. _Steve left_. 

What the fuck is he going to do? This was supposed to be something happy, exciting, between two people who were in love. Christian has always wanted kids, he just didn’t think that he’d ever have the opportunity. At least, he thought he’d never have kids with someone he was in love with. Because he’s always been in love with Steve. 

He’s supposed to go through this with someone, with someone he loves, someone who loves him. He’s supposed to have someone to hold his hand at the doctor’s office, to hold him at night, to be there for him when he’s sick and tired and emotional. Someone who’s just as excited and scared as he is. 

A knock at the door startles him. “Gimme a sec,” he yells out, hoping that he sounds normal and not like his whole world just walked out the door. 

Yeah he has friends, he has lots of friends and a family who loves him. But they’re not Steve. He’s not going to allow himself to lean on them, not going to let them help when he’s stuck in the bathroom when some smell sets him off. He can’t tell them when he’s worrying, worrying about something going wrong with the pregnancy, worrying about the birth, worrying that he won’t be a good parent. A single parent. 

He can’t face anyone right now, can’t face his family or his friends, having to smile some more and pretend that he’s not scared, that he’s not exhausted and sick, _he can’t_. 

He wants Steve, Steve who breaks down those walls, who doesn’t accept _I’m fine_ as an answer, the Steve who holds him when he doesn’t want to admit he needs it and holds him when he does admit he needs it, the Steve that Christian feels comfortable _needing_. 

**************************************************************************

 ** _RPS Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, Barely getting by_**  
  
Eventually the sobs and emotions quiet, leaving Christian more limp and exhausted than before. He’s weak. He wants to just lie here in Steve’s arms, forgive and forget. He wants to believe that Steve will never ever run off again. But he’s scared. This isn’t just a fight between them, this is a baby. Steve either wants them both, or he doesn’t, but Christian can’t take another let-down. 

Christian shifts further away and sits up, one hand behind him to help and one hand over his rolling stomach. “Steve, look, man, I’m sorry about all…this,” Christian waves the hand that was propping him up around as if he’s encompassing everything and then crosses his arms. “Can we just…meet tomorrow? Like I uh, uh, know this place, cross the street, coffeeshop.”

Nodding definitively to himself, Christian waits for Steve to get the picture, waits for him to realize that Christian is waiting for him to leave. It doesn’t take him long, then his warmth is sliding away from Christian and out of the covers. Christian watches as Steve clutches the towel, suddenly uncomfortable with his state of undress as Steve never is and he glances at the bathroom where his clothes still are. 

“Yeah,” Christian acknowledges the problem. “Just leave quickly.”

***

Steve barely makes it out of the door without breaking down. Everything’s gone. Christian is back to trying to be perfectly strong and capable, back to apologizing for accepting Steve’s freely offered comfort. Steve has become one of them, one of those people that Steve used to hate, the unspoken-of people that put that wariness in Christian’s eyes, that Christian had to build shields against. 

He thought he might feel better just seeing Christian in the flesh, seeing that his worst nightmares weren’t actually happening. But he doesn’t feel better. He feels worse. Now he knows how much Christian is struggling, knows how much Christian needs him, needs someone he can lean on. 

What if Christian doesn’t let him back in? He can’t stand the thought of watching from the outside, watching Christian struggle, knowing he’s sick and tired and needy, and trying not to be. He can’t stand the thought of watching as Christian returns to the security of his friends and family, watching them dote on him, the thought of watching Christian from a distance as Christian rounds with their child and other people put their hands on his belly, feeling intimately what Steve helped make in love but no longer has the right to touch. He can’t stand the thought of meeting their child one day and knowing that he could have had it all, had everything. 

He doesn’t sleep that night. He plans. Christian holds their future in his hands, but Steve isn’t going to passively accept Christian cutting him out. He goes out and buys the same brand of soap and toothpaste and throws out all his cigarettes to avoid causing Christian any more distress. He gets to the coffee-shop early, but doesn’t order. He doesn’t want any unknown smells on him. After this he plans to go to the grocery store whether Chris accompanies him or not. It didn’t look like Christian was even trying to take care of himself, trying to keep food down. He wants to rant and rail against Christian’s stupid defensive, self-destructive, annoying proclivities, but he knows it’s no use getting pissy about things he’s known about the whole time. 

*****************************************************

_Kane RPS Steve/Chris, I’m not hungry for food_   
  


Steve woke spooned around Christian in his LA home. After settling their differences in Portland, Christian had come with him to finish some work before they would eventually move closer to Christian’s momma for the birth. 

Steve didn’t like leaving Christian alone for a minute, because of the time they had already spent apart and because Christian still seemed so fragile and exhausted. The nausea had gotten marginally better now that they were in the second trimester, but Christian was still under-weight instead of gaining. And that lost weight just made the slight curve of his lower belly all the more obvious. 

Sliding his hand over the rounded skin, Steve couldn’t get enough of touching it, not since the first time Christian had let him. Christian stirred under the touch, shifting sleepy and uncomfortable in a way that made Steve frown in concern. 

“Hey babe,” Steve whispered softly. “How do you feel? Hungry?”

Steve had never before made so many bland tasteless meals in his life and if a year ago someone had told him that he’d be making them for Christian, he’d have laughed in their face, but now he’d make whatever Christian would keep down. He’d even eat it too. 

Christian sighs and puts his own hand over Steve’s on his belly, but Steve is surprised when Christian grips his hand and slowly draws it up Christian’s chest, rubbing Steve’s palm gently over a nipple. Steve massages the tight nub gently, trying to soothe this new hurt. Christian’s nipples have been so sore that he doesn’t even want to wear a shirt much less let Steve touch them. 

But Christian reacts to the touch with a broken noise that sounds as much of pain as pleasure and has Christian burying his face in the pillow and thrusting his ass back on Steve’s rapidly hardening cock. Cautious, Steve draws their joined hands down Christian’s body to the outside of Christian’s thigh, unsurprised when Christian lifts his top leg to put his foot on the mattress, opening himself so that Steve can stroke his sensitive inner thighs with their joined hands. 

“Christian?” Steve asks breathlessly. They haven’t had sex since Christian told him about the pregnancy, since Steve walked out on Christian, since Christian started throwing up his insides and being too exhausted to get out of bed. He needs to know what Christian wants. 

Christian shifts away so that he can roll onto his back and look at Steve, blue eyes lust blown and dark, lips bitten and red. “I’m not hungry for food,” he growls before those still strong hands are pulling at Steve, pulling Steve on top. 

There’s only a small curve to Christian’s belly, but even so the difference in the way their bodies fit together is startling and Steve gasps at it. But Christian isn’t in the mood for a slow and easy apparently and his own hands go back to his nipples, pulling at them and bucking up in Steve’s body maddeningly. 

“Jesus Christ, baby,” Steve says in shock at his lover writhing wantonly beneath him. But Christian just smirks up at him, slow and mischievous, and pulls him down into a kiss. 


	16. Chapter 16

_**Steve is the only person that Christian allows himself to be vulnerable around** _

“Fuck you, man!” Christian yells out, half kidding and half pissed as the last of their friends leave his and Steve’s house in LA. 

Steve watches out of the corner of his eye as he screws the cap back on the Jack and throws a few beer bottles in the trash. He hears Christian cursing even as he shuts the door. 

But Steve knows that the wall is about to fall, crumble in large chunks on the ground. All of this was just piss and wind, bluster in front of their friends. 

Steve understands it, at least a little. Another of Christian’s friends has betrayed him, told their friends and ultimately the media that “Let Me Go” would never get on the radio, that there was a reason it wasn’t being played on CMT even after all these months. 

So Christian never allows himself to be vulnerable, not even in front of their friends. He curses and drinks and glares and says ‘it don’t matter’ and makes jokes like ‘another one bites the dust’. 

It’s only around Steve that Christian can let down those walls. By the time, Steve comes out of the kitchen, it’s quiet. He finds Christian sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. 

Steve wastes no time sitting beside his partner and wrapping his arms around the brunette and leaning his chin on Christian’s shoulder. And Christian leans into his comfort. 

“I thought,” Christian starts, his voice a low grumble. “Fuck, I thought that he was a friend.”

Steve nods as much as he can mostly wrapped around his partner. Finally, here is the hurt that Christian couldn’t show before, couldn’t even let himself feel in front of everyone else. 

Steve pulls Christian’s face to the side so he can reach Christian’s plump lips. Then he’s pulling Christian down with him to lie on the couch, pushing and pulling at Christian until they’re situated with Christian practically lying on top of him, his hand pulling Christian’s face into the curve of his neck. 

And Christian lets him. It took them a long time to get here, a long time for Steve to break past Christian’s walls, some walls that Steve himself helped build. Steve thinks that they’ve both learned their lesson though. 


	17. Chapter 17

_**Celebrating happy news** _

It wasn’t the celebration of a CD release party, the two of them getting steadily trashed while moving among and around the fans until the many becomes only two and then one, a desperately unrestrained two-backed howling beast. It wasn’t the celebration of an anniversary when they’d move in ever-decreasing circles until they’re rubbing shoulders and clothes start to disappear almost by magic. 

This is spontaneous and joyful, the two of them crashing into each other like hydrogen and oxygen atoms, both of them transformed, their emotions coalescing, flowing over them as inexorably as a waterfall. Their hands grasp and their breaths mix, and their smiles stretch across their cheeks like a rubber band, snapping back into pink bee-stung lips dragging across stubbled skin. 

It’s not frenetic, but it’s uncontrolled. It’s the slow grind of continents coming together, quaking and roaring, cleaving them apart and filling all their fissures, leaving magma and smoke as evidence of the destruction. Yet playful lips and teasing fingers crawl along mountains of muscle and dip into still-slick valleys. Happiness radiates out of their pores still, energetic particles colliding in the air around them creating a kind of haze that that blocks out any other emotions from intruding. 

Their bodies cool and the lines of the room solidify into harsh reality. But the satisfaction doesn’t wane, that warm dancing butterfly in the cavity of their broad chests. They huddle together, two rocks worn down by harsh weather only to fit perfectly, better bracing each other against further hardships. Sleep is an elusive wispy cloud, impossible to catch, but eventually the isolated cave of their room is filled with the rumbling, sounds like thunder, threatening future struggles but also anticipating even brighter rainbows. 


	18. Chapter 18

_**Dancing** _

It’s one of those rare nights that they spend together at home, not at a show, not out with the Leverage crew or the band or their friends or at an industry thing, and not alone at home falling asleep on the phone to each other. 

They made a leisurely dinner together, each moving around each other in Steve’s LA kitchen, and watched a movie, curled together on the couch. Now they’ve been talking, swigging from a bottle of Jack that a fan gave them at some point, and listening to music with the smell of Steve’s candles and incense in their noses. 

It’s comfortable and easy in a way that their hectic lives often don’t allow them to be anymore. Steve didn’t even realize how much he missed it, so caught up in all the people, the places, the challenges and accomplishments. 

Steve gets up to go hit the head and when he reenters the living room, Christian has stood up from the couch. He’s standing in front of the sound system, looking at a CD that Steve left lying around, his hips swaying to the beat. 

It’s not often that Christian just dances, his body loose and unselfconscious. Steve loves him like this and he walks up behind the brunette, stepping up to press their bodies close, front to back. Christian doesn’t lose a beat. 

Steve’s finger curl over the bone of Christian’s hips, palpable even through jeans as he fits his hips to Christian’s round ass. Steve moves to Christian’s rhythm, ignoring the friction on his half-hard cock because this, standing here pressed shoulder to knee with Christian is too good. 

The music seems to encircle them too, enclosing them in this warm bubble. Steve leans forward, pressing his face into the crook of Christian’s warm neck, and Christian leans back, his arms reaching behind to grab ahold of Steve’s hips. Their movements are becoming uncoordinated now, the rhythm getting lost as they reposition.

Steve moves his arms up around Christian’s shoulders, hugging him and Christian readily leans his cheek down on Steve’s bare forearm. The CD ends, leaving them in silence, but they continue to sway to the rhythm of their shared breaths against skin, their heartbeats knocking against their ribs as if wanting to break free, entangle further until they share one body. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Insecure Christian**

“We’re not going to go to the pool,” Christian says, lips already pursed in preparation for an argument. 

Steve sighs. They’re nailing down the itinerary for SinCity3, not that they really have time to worry with it right now, and now Christian starts off being argumentative. 

“Then you think of what we can do instead,” Steve asks, resigned to Christian’s attitude. “Remember you asked to do this with me…”

“Take them to the damn casino,” Christian growls, his temper fully exposed now. “It’s Vegas. But I’m not going to the pool.”

With those words Christian stalks off, done with the planning apparently. Steve pushes back the anger he feels at being left with everything to do, but he knows why Christian is acting like this. Christian is ridiculously insecure about taking his shirt off in public now, and he gets angry and irrational at even the suggestion of its mention. 

Steve lets Christian cool off, and sets about finding something else to entertain these women with for a few hours. 

Steve finds Christian in bed later, looking small curled on his side in his tshirt and sweatpants. Stripping down to his boxers, Steve climbs in, fitting himself around Christian’s back. 

His hands are already skimming along the skin underneath Christian’s tshirt when he mumbles, “I just don’t get it.”

He’s already rucking up the tshirt so he can press their skin together and then his top hand is sliding back down and over Christian’s cotton-clothed thigh. He’s not expecting Christian to answer him so he continues speaking. 

“Everyone there will think you’re hot no matter what you look like,” Steve says, his hand grabbing at the sweatpants, twisting them in his grip. 

“I know you’ve seen what other guys on tv look like. You watch enough tv,” Christian grumbles. 

Steve pulls down Christian’s pants, his hand running over the soft pale skin of Christian’s thighs. Christian’s barely participating in either the activity or the conversation, but it doesn’t stop Steve. He pulls his already half-hard dick out of his boxers and rubs the head against the smooth skin of Christian’s ass. 

“Those guys eat, sleep, work out, repeat. You enjoy too much for that,” Steve continues the conversation despite how he pants out the words now. 

He slides his dick experimentally through Christian’s thighs, he can hear Christian already jerking off furiously. 

“Says the guy who spent months spending all his time in football training camp,” Christian mutters, referring to Steve’s newly improve physique and the time it took to achieve. 

Steve is pressing down on Christian’s top thigh, trying to get more friction on his dick as he thrusts. “They won’t even look at me with you there,” he whispers, and it’s ninety percent true and ten percent a product of how gorgeous Christian will always look to him. 

Then there’s no more talking as Steve is muffling his sounds in the tshirt bunched up underneath Christian’s armpits and Christian is groaning in that deeply heartfelt way he has and he’s reaching back to grab onto Steve’s waist, suddenly wanting that connection that he’d been avoiding.

In the end, it doesn’t seem to matter how often Steve tells Christian that he’s perfect, Christian just is insecure about certain things. And Steve loves that about his lover too. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Sunday afternoon**

Sunday afternoons weren’t just for Sundays anymore. Not since their careers had taken off and left them with so little time together. So it was Tuesday, but it was still a Sunday afternoon in Christian’s head, that time of week when going back to work the next day is weighing heavily on him and all he wants to do is curl deeper into the couch and never come out. 

Christian hears Steve come in from the kitchen where he was making coffee, and who in the hell needs coffee in the afternoon when ya ain’t goin’ anywhere?

Sitting up a little to make room, Christian watches Steve put the mug on the coffee table before he’s pulling the blonde down onto the couch, curling on top of him. It’s not just going back to work tomorrow that he’s anticipating, but tomorrow Steve gets on a plane, leaving him behind again. 

Steve doesn’t even bother complaining about being treated as Christian’s personal teddy bear at this point, simply lies on his back and wriggles an arm around Christian who’s lying half-stuffed between the back of the couch and half on top of Steve. Comfortable enough, Steve turns his face towards the tv, and Christian tucks his face in the warmth of Steve’s throat

It’s fucking perfect and Christian never ever wants to move. Except how he can’t help his hips from gently pressing into Steve’s thigh. They’re both wearing pajamas, pants and tshirts that they put on after getting out of bed this morning, and there’s something about the feel of the soft jersey of Christian’s sleep pants against Steve’s rougher cotton pajama bottoms. 

Christian tucks his face deeper into Steve’s neck, his hair trapping in his humid breath. He’s humping Steve like a dog, but he can’t seem to stop even long enough to get his pants down as the pleasure builds in his belly. 

He gasps in surprise when Steve’s hands are suddenly on his ass, pulling him more on top of Steve so that Christian’s leg falls between Steve’s. Christian can feel an answering hardness against his leg and Steve’s pulling him in, squeezing his ass hard enough to bruise. 

They’re moving totally out of rhythm, but it doesn’t matter as they work up a fever pitch. Steve takes a hand off his ass, pushing Christian’s hair out of his face, but they never kiss, Steve’s lips hitting Christian’s chin as they pant into each other’s skin.

They come in their pants, bodies separate and yet together. Maybe there’s some symbology in that, but Christian doesn’t really care as he snuggles further into Steve’s now limp body. 


	21. Chapter 21

**sleepwalking**

The first time it happens, Steve thinks it’s funny. Christian’s staying with him in his house in LA and Steve gets up in the middle of the night to take a piss. He’s coming out of the bathroom when he sees Christian. 

Christian’s coming out of the guest room on the second floor, completely dressed. But his blue eyes appear hazy, like he’d been smoking weed except without the accompanying redness.

“Christian,” Steve calls out from the bathroom’s doorway. “Goin’ somewhere?”

He starts to get worried when Christian doesn’t answer. And then Christian bumps into the wall, clumsy and uncoordinated. 

“Christian,” Steve calls out louder, walking toward his friend. 

But still the dark-haired man doesn’t respond, he’s still walking forward even as Steve approaches. So Steve grabs Christian’s shoulders and shakes him a little. 

It’s the fact that Christian still keeps staring straight ahead that has it clicking in Steve’s mind. Christian’s sleepwalking. He thought that was just a myth, who actually does that? And why?

Steve quits trying to wake Christian up and instead, turns Christian around and walks him back to his room. Christian’s pliant and susceptible like this and it’s an odd feeling, almost creepy. 

Back in his room, Christian steps away from Steve’s hand on his own and strips off his clothes again. Steve watches him but he thinks all the while that he should look away. It’s not that they’ve never changed in front of each other, but Christian’s never been out of it like this, never been vulnerable like this. 

The next morning, Steve brings it up and they both laugh about it. Christian explains that he’s done that off and on since he was a kid, but he hasn’t done it lately. It makes Steve wonder again about why a person would do things in their sleep. 

The next night, it’s less funny. He wakes up from a sound sleep when he hears a commotion from downstairs. It only takes him a moment of grogginess before he realizes what it must be.

In only his boxers, he rushes down the stairs, stairs that Christian could have fallen on and broken his damn neck. He finds Christian in the kitchen, of course. There’s a cutting board and a knife on the counter and Christian is opening the refrigerator door. 

“Christian,” Steve shouts, just in case Christian is actually awake and making himself a midnight snack.

But just as the night before, Christian doesn’t answer, doesn’t respond in any way, simply continues rummaging in the refrigerator until he brings out an overripe apple. 

Steve doesn’t let him get any further. He takes the apple out of Christian’s hand and leads him by the shoulders back to the stairwell. He knows the stairs are dangerous but even shouting hasn’t woken Christian up. So he wraps an arm around Christian’s tapered waist to support his friend as the climb up. 

It’s a simple thing but again, Steve is struck by the situation. He’s helped Christian dozens of times when one of them has been falling-down drunk, but it never seemed as intimate then as it does now. Maybe it’s because Christian isn’t aware of the danger, maybe Steve’s stone cold sober and the house is eerily quiet, or maybe it’s because Christian can’t say no or yes. 

He leads Christian back to his bedroom where he gets into bed without protest again. 

For some reason, Steve decides not to mention the second incident to Christian. He tells himself he doesn’t want to worry Christian, doesn’t want Christian to feel bad for waking Steve up even though it’s totally out of Christian’s control. But that day, he looks at Christian a little differently, feeling like he somehow knows a secret now. He knows Christian’s weakness now. 

The next night, Steve keeps a vigil. He’s sitting up in his chair reading with his bedroom door cracked so that he’ll hear Christian getting up. There’s a creak in the floorboards right in front of his bedroom, before Christian can get to the stairs. 

Steve is shoving a bookmark in the book and standing up as soon as he hears the creak, but then his bedroom door opens. Christian comes in with that same scarily blank sleep-walking expression on his face and closes the door after himself. 

Confused, Steve stays by the chair and watches what Christian does. He’s even more confused when Christian goes to the edge of the bed and strips off his clothes just as Steve has watched him do the past two nights in the guest room. Christian drops his clothes in a pile on the floor and then climbs into Steve’s bed, even covering himself with the sheet. 

Steve is still staring as Christian sighs and turns toward the middle of the bed. What is Christian doing? Is Christian going to get up again tonight?

After a few minutes of confusion, Steve decides the only thing to do is to get back into bed and get some sleep himself. Unfortunately Christian is covering half the bed. 

Steve slides himself under the covers slowly, trying not to wake Christian. But there isn’t really enough room for him to get comfortable without coming into contact with Christian’s sleeping form. He tries for a few moments, even just lying stiff as a board with his eyes closed but eventually he has to push Christian. 

But Christian moves easily, allowing him room to stretch out but staying in contact with Steve’s skin. It reminds Steve of the way that they move onstage, each moving to accommodate the other, close but not restricting. When they’re finally comfortable and still, it’s with Christian’s hair tickling Steve’s nose, warm fleshed pressed up against each other. 

They wake up the same way. 

“Steve…?” Christian questions with a sleepy groan. 

Steve throws an arm over Christian’s chest and pulls him tighter. “Shhh, sleeping,” he grumbles. 

And even though he’s explained nothing, Christian just settles back down with a chuff. 

But Steve can’t help remarking, “I guess there is a reason you were sleep-walking.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Exercising**

Steve’s just getting back from a yoga class. Leverage is on hiatus which means he’s in Nashville instead of LA or Vegas, all places where he has a membership to a yoga studio. It also means that Christian is doing his own work out in the gym he installed, too afraid to exercise in a public gym anymore. 

Standing in the doorway, he watches Christian work out, shorter hair kept back with a bandana, wearing a muscle t and shorts, his pale white legs for once seeing the light of day. Steve can’t help thinking that their workout routines really do illustrated a lot of the differences between them. Steve likes to exercise in a group with an instructor playing soothing music and speaking in a soft voice. He likes the slow repetitive, meditative nature of yoga. 

Whereas Christian prefers to work out alone, preferably where no one can see him. He plays loud music, drowning out whatever might be going on in his head, and lifts weights, his muscles straining, sweat soaking his t-shirt front and back. 

Their differences were more than just exercising. Steve liked to work in groups, Christian liked to work things out alone before showing anyone. Steve was calm, but Christian was temperamental at best. But no matter how different they were, they just fit together. 

Christian does one last bicep curl, his eyes trained on the mirror directly in front of him, but then he’s setting the weights aside on one of the two weight benches and looking up at Steve, apparently he’d known Steve was there the whole time. 

The room is bright with sunshine, shining directly into Christian’s eyes making them as clear a blue as Steve has ever seen, the blue of the sky on a perfect day. Steve’s moving across the room before Christian’s even finished taking out his earbuds. 

Steve’s hand on his gym shorts clad crotch have him dropping his iPod to the rubbery floor.

“Jesus, Steve,” Christian curses but Steve’s too busy licking the salty sweat from the side of his face. 

“Ugh,” Christian moans in mock disgust as he pushes Steve half-heartedly. “You’re so predictable. I can’t ever get a decent workout in this place.”

“You’ll have to start being less sexy,” Steve says smoothly. His hand stroking faster as Christian’s dick gets hard. 

“Or you’ll hafta learn some self-control,” Christian growls.

But Steve isn’t at all deterred from his goal and as he pushes down Christian’s shorts and boxers, and then pushes Christian down to sit on the second weight bench, Christian seems to have forgotten his objections. 

It’s a great thing that this floor is so padded, Steve thinks to himself. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Riley Smith/Christian Kane**

As soon as he opens the hotel door, Christian is hit full force with the weight of the other man, hands immediately going around his waist. But unlike their meeting on the red carpet, this time, Christian lets himself be pushed back, only grunting mildly in irritation when his back hits the wall on the other side of the room. 

“Fuck, miss me?” Christian asks, teasingly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

But his advantage is short lived as he gasps in a surprised breath when Riley sneaks long fingertips underneath his t-shirt, tickling his sensitive belly. 

“God yes,” Riley breaths out. 

Riley’s practically curled himself around Christian’s body, his breath caressing Christian’s throat before his lips do. Christian’s hand goes to the back of Riley’s neck, fingers playing lightly in the short blonde hairs there lightly despite how Riley’s frantically attacking him. 

Riley’s mouth sucks hard at the sensitive skin of Christian’s throat while Riley’s hands wander up Christian’s chest, and then down Christian’s sweatpants. Riley’s practically fucking humping himself on Christian’s hip even as his hands stroke Christian’s length. His hands are rough, dry, the sensation edging toward painful as Christian bites his lip, pressing himself back into the wall unconsciously trying to escape. 

But then Riley’s hands move on, down inside Christian’s pants to teasingly stroke over Christian’s inner thighs until Christian shivers. He can feel Riley’s triumphant smile against his now bruised skin. 

“Fuck, I love how much you wan’ it,” Christian says, voice hitching as his sweatpants hit the carpeted ground, along with Riley’s knees. 

“Want you,” Riley agrees before he’s biting hard at the fleshy part of Christian’s belly underneath his navel. 

Christian’s breath hitches but not at the pain, at the words. He doesn’t know if the younger man realizes what he’s said, but it doesn’t matter as Riley lips are curving over the mushroom head of his dick, swallowing him down, taking him in. 


End file.
